Not All Who Wander Are Lost
by RazedRainbow
Summary: In the wake of a tragedy, Scootaloo and the Crusaders search for a way to bring back the dead.
1. Polychrome Dreams, Monochrome Reality

"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."

-Leo Tolstoy

* * *

><p>Scootaloo ran her hoof through the cumulus and watched the plumes drift through the sky like dandelion seeds. She leaned back, her forelegs wrapped around her head to form a makeshift pillow, let out a blissful sigh and shut her eyes. For reasons she couldn't explain, this simple act caused the warmth of the sun to increase tenfold. Eternities could be spent lying like this.<p>

The wind blew her fuchsia mane into her face, but she brushed it away with her hoof. While she couldn't say she knew exactly what paradise was like, she was one-hundred percent sure that it was a spitting image of this.

She opened her eyes again, flinching as they adjusted to the sunlight. She turned her head to the side and watched thick plumes of cumulonimbus drift across the sky. As she lay there, entranced by the beauty around her, she couldn't help but laugh. All her life she had wanted to harness the thrilling aspects of the sky: the daring tricks, the skull-crushing speeds, the endless freedom. However, as she laid upon the clouds, she realized that she enjoyed the meditative qualities of the upper-world as well. She adored watching wisps of cirrus dance around, performing their never-ending ballet. She could spend hours listening to the ravens' call as they drifted through the sky, watching their tiny black bodies move against the expansive, blue backdrop. It was calming, enthralling, and she couldn't get enough.

"Hey, squirt!" cried an unmistakable, tomcoltish voice.

_Yes_, she thought to herself. _It's definitely paradise_.

Scootaloo slowly rose to her hooves, stretching out her wings and legs in the process. After the orchestra of pops and clicks ceased, she lifted off of the cloud.

Flight was still an odd experience for her. When she was younger, it had escaped her like the answers to the universe. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get her hooves off the ground for more than a second or two. However, once she had harnessed it, the act became second-nature, like walking or breathing.

She hovered into the air and found herself face to face with an angel. An angel with a coarse voice, rainbow mane, and somewhat obnoxious attitude. Sure Rainbow Dash wasn't perfect, but then again, who was? All that mattered was that she had taken her under her wing, taught her to fly, and shown her the pegasus way of life. They stared at each other intently, eyes filled with a hunger for speed and a desire for adventure.

"So, are you going to lollygag on the clouds all day, or are you going to do something productive like me?"

"You mean taking twenty-two hour long naps?"

Rainbow Dash was in her face in an instant. "Hey! My naps only last seventeen hours!"

"Is there a difference?" Scootaloo smirked.

"Do you want to get your flank kicked?" Dash's nose pressed up against hers. Strands of rainbow mane blew into Scotaloo's face.

"I'd like to see you try."

Rainbow grinned. "Fine! If that's the way you want it to be. Here, to Cloudsadale, to Ponyville, then back here. No breaks, no water, no exceptions."

"Alright, let's do it." Scootaloo squinted her eyes into an intimidating glare.

The pegasi hovered down to a thin sheet of altostratus and marked it as their makeshift starting line.

"On the count of three," Rainbow said, lowering herself into a starting position. "One... twothree!" Rainbow was off in a flash.

"Hey!" Scootaloo cried out, sprinting to catch up. "That's cheating, Rainbow!"

"No, it's not. It's trickery!"

"I thought we were flying an honest race here!"

"Honesty ain't my element, squirt."

Scootaloo ignored her, choosing to focus on the race rather than a witty retort. They were neck and neck from Cloudsdale to Sweet Apple Acres. Scootaloo could feel her wings beginning to cramp up, and she cursed herself. _I should have just let the cheater have her head start. I would have caught up to her eventually_.

Suddenly, her wing stiffened, and she almost lost control.

"You okay, squirt?" Rainbow called out to her in a voice tinged with concern.

"Of course I am!"

"I don't want you crashing on me. If you need to stop I'll—"

"I don't _need_ anypony's help!"

Her wing cramped again and locked at her side. She tumbled through the air. Ground, sky, ground, sky—the world was a blur and she felt the urge to throw up. With each rotation, her distance from the ground was cut dramatically. Realization struck her square in the chest.

_I'm gonna die! I'm gonna to die!_ She kicked her legs in a panic. _Rainbow, help me!_

Amidst her spinning and pleading, she could make out Rainbow speeding towards her, eyes squinted in determination. A cone formed around Rainbow. A cone that Scootaloo had only heard about in stories.

She couldn't help but smile. If the last thing she saw was a Sonic Rainboom, then she could die a happy mare.

She could feel foliage against the back of her head.

The cone had reached its breaking point

_This is it..._

"_Scootaloo..._"

_I'm ready..._

"_**Scootaloo!**_**"**

Scootaloo was blinded by a wave of light

* * *

><p>"Scootaloo! Wake up!"<p>

She slowly opened her eyes and glanced around the room. Her vision was blurry, and the air around her smelled of wood and ink.

Her cheek was damp with drool, and there was a putrid taste in the back of her throat. She lazily licked her chapped lips and groggily attempted to lift her head off of the book. However, the parchment and ink beckoned her like a Siren's call, and she let her face fall onto the pages.

"Scootaloo, get up!"

"Fibe muhr minutz, Twi'ligh," Scootaloo muttered, her words muffled by the thick pages. "I wasb habin' dish aweshume dreham."

"This isn't a hotel, and my books are certainly not meant to be used as pillows. Now, hurry up... I'm locking up in a few minutes."

"What?" Scootaloo lifted her head from the book and squinted up at Twilight, then out the window. "It's, like, three in the afternoon!"

"Actually, it's _four_ in the afternoon," Twilight corrected.

"Three, for, it doesn't matter. I thought the library stays open until seven!"

"Okay, first, you and I both know that you're not allowed to be here for that long. Second, I have a very important meeting with a friend at five, so closing time is earlier."

"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here," Scootaloo sung out of key, giggling as she returned her head to the comfort of the book-pillow.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being silly. Fine then, I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice."

Suddenly, a purple glow and a sense of weightlessness enveloped Scootaloo.

She smiled for a second before realizing that Twilight was levitating her. "Come on, Twilight! I was reading!"

"Oh, really? I didn't know one could read through osmosis."

"Os-what?"

"Osmosis: The process of gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas."

Scootaloo stared at her, mouth agape. _Were those even words?_ "Look, Twilight... Come on, Twilight, put me down! I can walk myself out."

Without hesitation, Twilight set her down. Unfortunately for Scootaloo, her legs were still asleep, and she fell with a thump as soon as her hooves touched the floor.

"Oh my goodness! Scootaloo, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just gotta wake up."

Scootaloo stretched herself out. Once she was confident that she could take a step without falling flat on her face, she headed back towards the desk.

Twilight rolled her eyes and followed. "Scootaloo, the door's _that_ way," she said, nodding over her shoulder.

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm beginning to wonder..."

"Look, I just want to check out a book, Twilight. That's all."

"Okay, but are you actually going to read it?"

"Of course I am."

"I'm not going to let you check it out if you aren't going to read it."

"And why do you believe I won't read it?"

"You just don't strike me as the reading type."

_Assumptions_, Scootaloo sighed. "I bet Rainbow didn't seem like the 'reading type' either." Twilight gasped, and Scootaloo cringed. "Sorry... sorry for that, Twilight." She shamefully looked at the ground.

"It's fine, Scootaloo. I know you didn't mean anything by it," Twilight's voice trembled.

They continued their walk in silence. Seconds later, they reached the table that Scootaloo had been using as a bed. Two books lay upon the chair, and another lay open on the table, a stain still standing out on the page. Giving Twilight a sheepish grin, Scootaloo closed the book, picked it up with her mouth and handed it to her. Twilight grabbed it with a telekinetic spell and turned towards the checkout desk. As she turned, she glanced at the cover and nearly dropped the book.

"Um, Scootaloo?" Twilight's voice shook.

"Yeah?"

"Why," her voice cracked despite her best efforts. "Why are you getting _this_ book?"

"Eh, I don't know. Rainbow mentioned the books a few times. She said they were 'awesome' and 'cool,' so I decided to give 'em a shot. I got to, uh..." Scootaloo racked her brain for a number, something that would make Twilight think that she had actually read the book, rather than passing out as soon as she had opened it to a random page. "Chapter five! It was pretty good. I promise I'll finish it."

Twilight didn't react; she was in a whole other world. Her shoulders and back were tensed and her head was lowered. She glanced over her back at Scootaloo, but then averted her gaze.

Eventually, Twilight spoke up. "Scoots." She had never used Scootaloo's nickname before, and the utterance of it felt awkward. "Why did you come here?"

"To read, duh..."

"Yes, but did you, um, come here for _this _book specifically."

"Well, a book in the series, yeah. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No, I was just wondering."

Silence overtook them once more, and they shuffled to the front desk. Twilight completed the proper checkout procedures without making eye contact. It was quite clear that her mind was elsewhere, but Scootaloo knew Twilight's habit of breaking into long-winded rants and wanted nothing to do with one of her spiels. _She'd probably lecture me about damaging library property or something. _She picked up the book in her mouth, gave Twilight a nod of gratitude, and stuffed it into her cyan saddlebags.

Once the book was secure, she trotted to a nearby bookcase and collected the scooter and helmet leaned against it. She brushed her mane back with one hoof and placed her helmet on her head with the other. Tightening the straps and blowing away any unruly strands of mane that fell into her eyes, Scootaloo grabbed her scooter and exited the library.

Before she sped off, she once again expressed her gratitude. "Thanks, Twilight. See ya later!"

She rolled forward, beating her wings as fast as she could. She glanced back at the library and saw Twilight standing in the doorframe. Scootaloo stopped and called back. "Twilight... are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'm fine," Twilight replied, her attention focused on the sky. Scootaloo turned her head and searched the sky for what had caught Twilight's eye. A faint rainbow hung just above the distant hilltops. Scootaloo felt a lump forming in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it.

"Have a good evening, Scootaloo." Twilight's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah... yeah, you too..." Scootaloo couldn't get out of there fast enough.

* * *

><p>Maybe it was just her cocky nature, but Scootaloo was certain that nopony in Equestria could ride a scooter like she could. The speeds she could reach, combined with the tricks she could pull off, were a skill-set that made even the most gutsy of ponies' jaws drop. However, despite her talent with a scooter, it was not her special talent. If she was meant to get a scooter cutie mark, she would have gotten it already. She looked at her flank out of habit.<p>

Nope, still blank.

She sighed and focused on the road. Normally, she hated the long route from downtown Ponyville to her house on the outskirts, but this was one of those exceptions. The only sounds she heard were the arrhythmic clicking of pebbles and twigs beneath her scooter. She closed her eyes and imagined that she was flying.

The smell of grass and the water of a nearby stream covered her mind's canvas with green and blue, while the sound of a cold wind rustling the autumn leaves added a layer of yellow and violet. The red handlebars shook in her hooves. She grinned and could taste the moist wind as it blew through her teeth, topping off her image with a hint of indigo. This must be what flying looked like: a spitting image of a rainbow.

_Rainbow..._

Mentioning her name in front of Twilight had been hard enough. The actual, unprovoked mental vision hurt even more. Scootaloo had tried being tough, tough like her, but that was impossible. Her eyes began to burn and her hooves started to shake, making it impossible to control her scooter.

She came to a stop on the side of the path and sat down in the grass, inhaling and exhaling frantically. She looked to her right. There was still enough light in the sky to see where she was going. She was only five minutes from home at the most, and she was sure that there was at least an hour's worth of light left. A smirk pulled at her lips. Her father always told her to be back before sunset, and Scootaloo loved to push that envelope. She looked in front of her and realized where she was. The smirk faded.

A garden of granite and shadows loomed on the other side of the fence.

Every muscle in her body shook. Stumbling over her own hooves, Scootaloo scurried onto her scooter and fled down the path.

* * *

><p>The air bellowed in her ears as she sped down the path. She knew crashing at this speed would be dangerous, but that didn't matter. The only thing she could think about was getting as far away from that accursed place as quickly as possible.<p>

Glancing to her left, she saw the outline of a cottage. Its windows were dark, just as they had been for the past two weeks. She sighed, but quickly shoved any errant thoughts out of her mind. Thinking about these things wasn't going to help her get away from them.

As she crested a large hill, she could make out her house. Light shone from the first story, and she groaned. That meant her father was home and waiting for her. She looked to the left and saw that there was still plenty of light in the sky—at least by her standards. She gave her wings a hard flap, and continued down the dirt road.

She rolled up to the front steps and hopped off of the scooter, hastily removing her helmet. After checking her saddlebags to make sure her book hadn't fallen out during the ride, she ran up the steps as fast as her legs could carry her. She looked over her shoulder, making sure that she wasn't late, and went to push open the door, but it flew open before she could touch it.

Her father stood in the doorway, fearful eyes darting from her, to the horizon, and back to her. He was breathing heavily, and she could see that every muscle in his body was tense. He looked at her and the road behind her several more times, his muscles slackening with each glance. Eventually, only his heavy breathing remained. He looked down at Scootaloo, glaring daggers.

"Inside. Now!"

She entered the gaudy living room and searched for something to focus on. Her gaze shifted from the pale-mauve drapes, to her father's unfinished sculptures in the corner of the den and to the single couch that occupied the center of the room. Finding no viable distractions, she looked up at her father.

"H-hey D-d-dad," she said, trying but failing to pull off an innocent smile.

"Scootaloo! Du bist spät Fräulein!" Maler scolded, slipping into his native Germane tongue.

"I'm pretty sure there's still light in the sky, Dad."

She had him there. If anything, she was earlier than usual. Still, she could hear his heart from across the room, and the worry she had caused him earlier was still apparent. His eyebrows furrowed, and Scootaloo could see that he was analyzing the situation from top to bottom. His expression finally slackened, and Scootaloo sighed. It was clear that he was giving her a chance to defend herself.

"Where were you, Töchterchen? Hanging out with your friends?"

"I was at the..." The words drifted off. There was no chance that he would believe her.

Maler leaned forward. "_Where_ were you?"

"The library," Scootaloo replied flatly, eyes downcast.

"You? At the library? That's the best excuse you can come up with?"

"Hey, I've got the book right here!" She yanked open her saddlebag and pulled out a large book with a red cover. The cover depicted a pegasus with a golden yellow coat, cocky grin and trademark hat fighting an army of skeletons.

"_Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool._" He chuckled. "I used to read these books when I was a colt!

"Wow," Scootaloo said, "they're that old?"

"Are you calling me old, Töchterchen?" He smirked. Scootaloo said nothing, choosing to focus on the floorboards once more.

"So," he continued. "Why did you get this? I know you, and I know that you hold books on the same level as broccoli and cough syrup." He laughed again. "Not saying that it's a bad thing to _start._ It's just... odd."

"I..." She drifted off, not sure if she wanted to mention the real reasons. Reality hurt too much, but at the same time, her father could see through her like thin air. Any excuse she made—any lie she told—would be detected by her father's ever-judging eyes. She sighed and continued, "Rainbow used to talk about how 'awesome' they were and, well, I could use some 'awesome' right now."

Maler knelt down next to his daughter and nuzzled her cheek. "Well, from experience, I can confirm that these books are... what did you call it? Awesome?"

"Yeah, that was it."

"Although..." His face tensed up again as he read the cover. "You do realize that this is the sixth book in the series, right?"

"Oh, horseappl—" She covered her mouth, hoping that it would mute the profanity, but Maler had already heard enough.

"Scootaloo C. Dronte, what did I tell you about using such vile language?" Her father's face bore a mask of forced disapproval.

"Never use it." She guiltily sighed.

"You're damn right." Maler's lips pulled up in a sly grin.

"Hypocrite!" she cried.

"Do you even know what that word means?"

"Yeah... well, no, but I've heard it used to describe ponies like you!"

He chuckled. "Okay, you've got me. Anyway, if memory serves correct, the series doesn't have much of a continuity, so I don't think reading the sixth book first will cause any problems."

"Good... I don't want to go all the way back to the library just so I can get the first book." She winced and shook her head. "Especially not after how Twilight acted."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Scootaloo said. "She saw that I was getting one of these _Daring Do _books, and then she started asking me all these questions. Why I was getting it. Who I heard about it from. And then she got all sad."

"Well, that's understandable. She did lo—" Maler stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing, Töchterchen, nothing. Say, are you hungry?" he cooed, kneeling beside her again, and wrapping a foreleg around her shoulder.

"As a horse!" Scootaloo exclaimed, giggling at her own joke.

"Well, that's good because I didn't make anything you'd like,"

"Oh... what are we having?" Her ears drooped.

"Just some icky, gross... _spargel!_"

"_Really_?" Scootaloo's disappointment turned to excitement. "Wow, you almost tricked me."

"You and I both know that my cooking is atrocious at best."

"Only when you're baking." Scootaloo shuddered as she thought back to the gingerbread cookie disaster two Hearth's Warming Eves ago.

"Wahr, wahr. So, what do you say? Do you think you can handle it?"

"I was _born_ ready!" Scootaloo yelled. Out of habit, she lowered herself into a starting position, and her father followed suit. Their eyes met.

Maler grinned. "Drei... zwei... eins... los!

Scootaloo and Maler raced each other to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Scootaloo stumbled into her bedroom and called over her shoulder in a tired, slurred voice.<p>

"Goodnight Dad!"

"Goodnight Töchterchen! Sweet dreams," Maler called out, his voice muted by the door to his studio.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning," she said between yawns.

Scootaloo flapped her wings and lifted herself into bed. Sure, it wasn't flying a marathon, but it was progress. The fact that her flight-development was so delayed frustrated her to no end, but she knew that lying around and moping wouldn't help. _'You don't learn to fly by sitting on your flank all day. You learn to fly by jumping off a cliff.'_ That's what Rainbow had told her.

Sure, she had taken that message a little too literally at first, but over time she had grown to understand the meaning behind Rainbow's words.

_Rainbow._

Her mind really needed to stop drifting there. The nightmares were bad enough.

She let her head sink into the pillow, and her mind drifted back to the dream she had back at the library, specifically the fall. The tumbling, the pleading, the acceptance. It made her legs shake.

_I wonder if that's how..._

She clenched her teeth and shut her tear-filled eyes. _No... I have to be brave. I have to be strong. I have to..._

A single tear trickled down her cheek. Then another. Then dozens upon dozens. She buried her face in the pillow to hide her sobs.

There were several things that she wanted to preserve—her mask of toughness was one of them. She hated herself for crying, but at the same time, she wanted nothing more than that feeling of release. In the back of her mind, she had planted the idea that maybe, just maybe, her tears would bring those she loved back to her.

Unfortunately, even in a magical land like Equestria, tears did nothing but dampen pillows.

She wiped her eyes and looked around her room. Despite the tragic events, most of her Rainbow Dash collection remained intact. The core from the apple Dash had eaten at the centennial meteor shower lay on a shelf, right next to a rainbow-wig. Wonderbolts posters and memorabilia lined all four walls (Scootaloo couldn't recall what the walls underneath even looked like). Her eyes drifted to the nightstand, and the two items that lay upon it: a pair of goggles and a face-down picture.

Design-wise, there was nothing particularly special about the goggles. They were a generic set that one could buy at any local bit store, but they were special to Scootaloo. Dash had worn these goggles through every storm and every race. They weren't just Rainbow's property, they were a part of her. However, even the goggles carried bitter reminders: a crack on the right lens and a dark-stain around the headband.

The picture was something she couldn't force herself to look at, but she kept it on her nightstand anyway.

She reached for the floor and, after several missed swipes, found her saddlebags. She rummaged through them until her hoof smacked against something hard. Slowly, she pulled the book out and looked at the cover.

Daring Do stared at her through the darkness, eyes still gleaming with determination.

"Why not?" Scootaloo muttered to herself. She hopped out of bed, reached under it, and pulled out a lantern filled with fireflies. How the fireflies were still alive was a mystery—she'd had the lantern stuffed under her bed for at least a week. She placed the lantern on her nightstand, hopped back into bed with a determined flap of her wings, and opened the book. The fireflies' lights were dim, and Scootaloo had to squint to make out the words.

"_Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool."_

* * *

><p><em>Prologue:<em>

_The strength of the gale threatened to blow Daring Do's hat off her head and around the world. She could barely see through the stinging rain, but she could make out the outline of a mountain. The distance between her and her destination was still far more than she'd hoped, and the storm showed no signs of letting up anytime soon, but she had to keep moving._

_Lightning strikes illuminated the world around her. The light was blinding, and Daring Do found herself looking down, shielding her eyes from the searing flash. She saw a face in a puddle—a face she didn't recognize—and she turned to attack. However, nopony was behind her. Perplexed, she looked back at the puddle. Lightning flashed, and she couldn't believe what she saw._

_Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and water droplets cascaded off her unkempt, oily mane. Her eyes were red from nights without sleep. Her vest hung loose around her torso, and her leg muscles lacked firmness. Food had been hard to come by in the lifeless plains of Strideberia—not that she felt like eating in the first place. There was no time to eat or rest._

_She didn't know how much longer she could go on._

_She needed to find the Phoenix Pool, find the spirit of her father, and return him to the land of the living._

_This wasn't a quest for treasure. This was a quest for something far more important._

_Daring Do gritted her teeth, pressed down her hat, and continued her march..._

* * *

><p>Scootaloo was already bored. <em>I thought Rainbow said these books were awesome? All about action and adventure and treasure and kicking butts and all that good stuff. All I'm seeing is some depressed chick.<em> She noticed that she was only on the second page and groaned.

She made a wager with herself. If the first chapter was five pages long or fewer, she'd read it. She flipped through the pages, passing the table of contents. She was about to go back when something caught her eye. On the inside cover was a map filled with lines, dots and other symbols.

She could see a sketch of a mountain peak, with the words _Phlegethon _scribbled next to it. There was a dot near the top of the mountain, marked with the words _Phoenix Pool_. She scanned the map, intently studying every detail of the proposed route. Finally, her eyes settled on the starting point of the trek, and her heart stopped.

_Canterlot..._

The book fell to the floor.

_Could it be? No! This book is fictional. Canterlot's the capital. That's why it's there! That's all. But, wait... what if it is real? What if Phlegethon does__exist? What if this Phoenix Pool is a real thing? If it's true, I can... no, I can't get my hopes up... but..._

She clasped her head in her forehooves, massaging her temples gingerly. Nopony had told her that this thinking thing was so hard. She got out of bed, picked up the book in her teeth, and trotted over to her desk which was covered with unfinished homework and detention notices that she quickly swept away.

She opened up one of her drawers and searched through it. She pulled out a couple of unfinished comics, a crumpled love letter from Snails, and a moldy daisy sandwich. Finally she found what she was looking for, a map

She flattened it against the desk and placed the book next to it. She scurried to her nightstand, retrieved the lantern, and quickly tiphoofed back to the desk. Her eyes darted from the book to the map, constantly comparing the concrete details in each. There was a forest on the real map, and a forest in the exact same spot on the book's map. She searched through the similarities until she found the comparison she was searching for.

On the real map, in the exact same spot that the book said Phlegethon was located, was an isolated triangle—a mountain!

"Sweet Celestia," Scootaloo muttered. She sat there for a few moments, letting the details wash over her. A desire to laugh and a desire to cry welled up in her chest.

She rose from the chair and shuffled to her bed. She sat down on the edge, mouth agape and eyes unfocused. She moved her hoof over to the nightstand, and wrapped her foreleg around the picture frame. Even in the darkness she could make out the distinctive rainbow-mane.

She gave the photo a melancholic smile and hugged it to her chest with the same gentleness that one would hold a newborn puppy. Her eyes stung with fresh tears as she rocked back and forth on the mattress.

In between heaving, shaky breaths, she whispered, "I'll get you back, Rainbow Dash...

"I'll get you back..."


	2. Meandering Through Melancholia

_Daring Do took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, downed it in a single gulp, and placed it back on the tray. All the while, Professor Brambor, the chairman of the math department at Oxcolt University, was expressing his 'utmost sympathies' through a thick accent. Occasionally, he'd pull out a handkerchief and wipe his eyes. Daring could tell that he was trying to seem 'emotionally devastated', but she knew better. Brambor, while having a good heart, was obviously more of a fancolt than a sympathizer._

"_Yohr fatha vwas a gud stallun."_

"_Yeah," Daring Do replied, disinterested. She had heard those words a thousand times, but at least the others had been intelligible._

"_Yah knuw, I loss my fatha vhen I vwas onle three," Brambor said between heavy breaths._

"_Uh-huh." Daring searched the crowds for somepony—anypony—that she could go and stand near instead of the nervous wreck of a unicorn who was fumbling over his words and hooves. She rolled her eyes and inwardly cursed him. The door to the balcony was only a few feet away. She longed to leave the party, but Brambor kept repeating the same sentiments._

_Finally, she found her opening. In the midst of another brow-wipe, Brambor's magic failed him, and the handkerchief fell to the floor. Muttering foreign curses, he bent down to retrieve the rag amidst a sea of hooves. Daring Do pounced on the opportunity and made a break for the door. It wasn't the most difficult escape she had ever made—it didn't even rank in the top one-thousand—but the relief she felt when the cool evening breeze hit her face was as radiant as when she had retrieved the Sapphire Stone._

_The smell of salt tickled her nostrils, and the sound of crashing waves caressed her ears. She had to give her father credit; he definitely knew how to purchase a summer home. Looking around the deck, she noticed that she was, unfortunately, not alone. Four other ponies also stood under the stars, and all of them had turned their attention to her, eyes glazed over, a sign of imminent condolences. She sighed in frustration. No matter where she went there were well-wishers and awkward huggers — she just wanted to grieve in peace. Was that too much to ask?_

_A plump earth pony dressed in a tuxedo and smelling of cigar smoke began to waddle towards her. Not wanting anything to do with his manufactured sentiments, she made a beeline for the stairs._

_The sand under her hooves, the scent of the jungle, the call of tropical birds. It was so wild that Daring felt the need to frequently glance over her shoulder, bracing herself for a brawl with Azuizotl. However, despite the rich vegetation and animal life, the coasts of Mexicolt weren't exactly dangerous. There was the occasional temple just off the beach, but the only treasures to be found there were tattered popcorn bags._

_She noticed a soda bottle sticking out of the sand and kicked it. Sure, there would always be new 'lost civilizations' to discover, and the fact that relics were becoming something more than cobwebs and crumbling stone was a (relatively) positive thing, but Daring still couldn't help but cringe when she saw the hooves of the Canterlot Elite treading the same stones that some of the earliest ponies had—and she couldn't help but think that those ancients were more advanced than these socialites._

If Father could see this, he'd be rolling in his... no, he is rolling over in his grave.

_She sighed and flopped down on a nearby boulder, head cradled in her hooves. It still stung no matter how many times she yelled at herself to keep her chin up—to move on as if nothing ever happened. She just couldn't keep her emotions chained up._

_She thought about the time her father had taken her to a Fillydelphia Fliers game when she was a foal. How he had bought her her very first hat on her eighth birthday. How he had taken her to her first ruin when she was ten (which, in retrospect, was a rather reckless and dangerous thing to do). How he had made her exactly who she was now: a brave adventurer and lover of history._

_And there, slumped against a rock, Daring Do—the most courageous, tenacious and ferocious pegasus Equestria had ever known—wept like a foal._

_Luckily for her, the ocean waves were loud enough to drown out her sobs—her reputation was one of the few things she still had._

_Over the roaring tides, she heard the calling of a gull. Its cries rose in a steady crescendo until she could make out what appeared to be words. She looked up and scanned the black skies, searching for the source. Despite the growing sound, there were no signs of life. Slowly, the words began to take shape. A single, decipherable word could be made out—one she had never heard before in her life._

"Scoots!"

The ground underneath Daring Do shook, and a sudden burst of light blinded her.

* * *

><p>"Scoots!"<p>

Something hit the back of Scootaloo's head. She jolted up, muscles tensed. However, after scanning the floor, she realized that the object was not some ancient mace of eternal destruction, but merely an eraser. With a shrug, Scootaloo's thoughts drifted back to her book.

_Alright, where was I? Let's see... found her opening... socialites... A-ha! Here we—_

The voice called out again, strained and seething: "Scootaloo!"

She slammed her forelegs on the desk and turned, glaring daggers at the unicorn in the desk behind her.

"_What, Sweetie Belle?!_"

Sweetie Belle glowered at her, thrusting her head towards the front of the classroom. Scootaloo stared at her with a raised eyebrow, perplexed; it was unlike Sweetie to show any emotion other than 'jubilant', let alone one of distaste. Sweetie Belle muttered something under her breath and gave one last prod, pointing her horn at something behind Scootaloo. "Turn around, you dodo," she said through clenched teeth.

Scootaloo's eyes went wide and followed Sweetie's horn. As she turned around, she noticed a tall shadow and gulped.

Mrs. Yardstick, Ponyville's middle school teacher and resident crone, stood over her, wrinkled eyes set in a disapproving stare.

Scootaloo chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. "Heya, Mrs. Yardstick. Lovely weather we're having."

The mare sighed and shook her head. "I don't know whether I should be mad at you for not paying attention, or impressed that you're willingly reading."

"Um... how about we go with the second one?"

Mrs. Yardstick shook her head again and returned to her lesson. Scootaloo sighed, reluctantly stuffing _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool _into her saddlebag. She glanced at the chalkboard and groaned. _Math... I hate math._ She pulled out her book and immediately laid her head on top of it. Not a single fiber in her body cared.

The lesson droned on behind a sea of static. She wanted to fall asleep, but also knew that Mrs. Yardstick would be keeping an eye on her.

She sighed and reminisced about Cheerilee's class two years before. Those were the days. Recess, cancelled classes due to other foals discovering their special talent, Hearts and Hooves Day parties. It just wasn't the same anymore—it certainly wasn't as much fun.

Her eyes drifted around the room before settling on the blackboard, where Mrs. Yardstick had hastily scribbled some notes. It was a trick she had learned the previous year. If she looked like she was paying attention, the teacher would assume she was. Mrs. Yardstick fell for it everyday, and today was no exception. She glanced at Scootaloo in odd intervals, and Scootaloo nodded in return. However, she hadn't listened to a single word, and the chalk-written graphs and numbers went ignored.

She glanced around the room. Most of her classmates were present, but a certain pink bow-wearing pony was unaccounted for. Checking to make sure that Mrs. Yardstick wasn't looking, Scootaloo turned towards a half-asleep Sweetie Belle.

"_Where's Apple Bloom_?" she whispered.

Sweetie blinked a couple times before whispering back, "_She got signed out early_."

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. "_Why_?"

"_Becau—_"

"Scootaloo! Sweetie Belle! Pay attention! If I catch either one of you talking again, I _will _give both of you detention for a week."

_You'll give me a week's worth of detention anyway, _Scootaloo muttered inwardly. Still, she complied, turned around in her desk, and stared off into space.

* * *

><p>Scootaloo was sure that time had frozen, but the ringing of the bell proved otherwise. Most of the students were out the door before the buzzing faded. Scootaloo had hoped to be one of those lucky ponies, but the strap of her saddlebag had somehow wrapped itself around the leg of her chair. It took all of two-seconds to unwind it, but by that time the classroom was nearly empty, and Mrs. Yardstick was able to pick her out.<p>

"Scootaloo. Could I speak with you for a minute?"

Although it was spoken like a question, Scootaloo knew she had no say in the matter. She signaled to Sweetie Belle to go on without her and walked over to Mrs. Yardstick's desk.

"This won't take long will it?" Scootaloo said.

"No, not at all... I just wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"About that friend of yours who passed away," Mrs. Yardstick said. She looked to the side, tapping her chin with a hoof. After a long pause, she finally said, "What was her name again? Blitzbow Sash? Lightning Flash?"

"Rainbow Dash." Scootaloo tried her best to hide her distaste, but failed. _How could this witch not remember her name?_ Scootaloo spoke again, trying to keep her composure. "What about her?"

"Well, you've been very distracted since her passing. You haven't been paying attention in class. You—"

"I've never paid attention in class."

"Well, you're certainly _more_ distracted than usual. Not to mention you haven't been turning in your homework, and your grades on the past two quizzes have slipped dramatically."

"It's not like they could be much worse..."

"There's no need for the attitude, Scootaloo," Mrs. Yardstick said, her eyes narrowing. "I'm trying to help you."

"Why would I need help?" Scootaloo groused. "Your help, especially."

Mrs. Yardstick sighed and massaged her temples. "You're making this very difficult for me—"

"Good! Can I go now?"

"No, you can't!" She reached across the desk, her foreleg getting a little too close for comfort. Scootaloo jerked away and scowled.

Mrs. Yardstick sighed. "I know this year has been hard for you, Scootaloo. First your mother and now this. Nopony should go through this, especially not one as young as you. However, I also feel like you need to talk to somepony about all of this. Express your feel—"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"But you _need_ to."

"How do you know that I'm not talking about it? Just 'cause I'm not talking to you about it doesn't mean I'm not talking to _somepony_ about it."

"Because I know you better than you think I do."

Scootaloo groaned. It was true. She hadn't talked to anypony about her emotions: not her friends, not her father; she had barely even admitted them to herself. Despite Mrs. Yardstick's claims, she didn't want to discuss it, especially not with her. _She'll probably say that I'm in need of help and send me off to some shrink._

"Look," Scootaloo sighed, tapping her hooves against the floor. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass."

To Scootaloo's surprise, Mrs. Yardstick didn't glower or grunt: she smiled.

"Well, my offer stands. If you ever need to talk to somepony, I'm willing to listen."

"Okay," Scootaloo responded, having no intention of accepting the offer. Without another word, she trotted out of the room, feeling Mrs. Yardstick's eyes on her the whole way.

"Have a good weekend, Scootaloo."

"Yeah, you too," she hastily muttered.

* * *

><p>The streets of Ponyville were filled with running, screaming children. Some of the fillies and colts were accompanied by their parents, who tried in vain to keep them calm with threats and pleas. Merchants hid their merchandise from grubby hooves and shuttered their fragile windows.<p>

In other words, it was Friday afternoon.

Compared to these bundles of energy, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were slugs, slowly making their way down the cobblestone towards nowhere in particular. They had originally planned to make a beeline for some distant field to crusade for their cutie marks, but Apple Bloom's absence had shot that down. Sweetie Belle suggested they go by Rarity's, but a spa-date had ruined those plans as well.

"So... what are we gonna do?" Scootaloo asked.

"I don't know. The library, maybe?" Sweetie Belle said with a shrug.

"Nah, I was just there yesterday."

Sweetie Belle froze, her jaw almost touching the dirt. "Y-ou went to the... _library_?" Her voice cracked on the last word.

"Yeah."

"_You_? _Library_? Huh?" Sweetie's eye twitched.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "What? Did they make a law saying I couldn't go to the library?"

"No, it's just... it's not like you," Sweetie Belle stuttered.

"Whatever," she sighed. "Irregardless, we can't go to the library. Twilight got really upset when I was there yesterday."

Sweetie Belle sighed and rolled her eyes,

"_Regardless_," she piped.

"What?" Scootaloo asked.

"Regardless. Irregardless isn't a word."

"Yeah, whatever, Dictionary. You know what I meant," Scootaloo said with a giggle, rolling her eyes again.

Sweetie Belle giggled back. "Yeah, I do. Anyway, what was that about Twilight?"

"Hmm?"

"You said something about Twilight getting upset."

"Oh yeah... I don't know. She just got really upset when I was checking out. I think she may have been crying a bit."

Sweetie Belle gasped. "Crying? My goodness, Scoots, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! Honest! I think it had something to do with the book I got."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's a Daring Do book."

"Why would that make her upset?" Sweetie Belle asked.

Scootaloo stopped her scooter, turned around and glared. "Why do you think?" she asked flatly.

"I don't know! I mean, sure, there's..." Sweetie Belle glanced at the ground. "Oh..."

Scootaloo turned around and focused on the road. "So, yeah. No library."

"Well, what about Sugarcube Corner?"

"I'm broke."

"My parents gave me six bits before they went on vacation. That's more than enough for each of us!"

Scootaloo thought it over. Finding no problems, she turned to her and beamed. "I like that idea."

"Then let's do it!" Sweetie Belle cheered.

* * *

><p>Scootaloo scanned the orchard, but found no sign of a large pink bow. She looked at Sweetie Belle, eyebrow raised.<p>

"Why did Apple Bloom sign out early, anyway? Was she sick or something?"

"No, but she did have a doctor's appointment."

"Really? Like the dentist?"

"No, the psychologist."

"Psychologist?" Scootaloo recoiled in surprise and disgust. "Why would Apple Bloom need to go to one of those phonies?"

Sweetie Belle shrugged. "Beats me."

They continued down the path in silence. Scootaloo caught herself glancing at the sky, but quickly pried her eyes away. Unfortunately for her, life seemed to be built on ironies, and her eyes fell upon a far more unsettling sight.

Two rows into the orchard was a distinctive tree—a tree missing several limbs on one side and a slight depression in the ground beside it. Scootaloo's mouth went dry, and her muscles tensed.

_That's... that's where..._

"Howdy, y'all!"

"Hey, Applejack!" Sweetie Belle piped up.

Applejack trotted up the path, a basket filled with freshly bucked apples on either side of her torso. She briefly removed her Stetson to brush a few damp strands of blonde mane from her eyes before plopping it back down on her head.

"Y'all lookin' for Apple Bloom?"

"Yeah, we are." Sweetie Belle paused and kicked at the ground. "Um, we can see her, right?"

"Ya got eyes, don't ya?" Applejack laughed. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo didn't share her amusement. Applejack cleared her throat. "Yeah, y'all can go see 'er. She's in the ol' treehouse."

"Thanks, Applejack," Sweetie Belle said. "Come on, Scoots."

Scootaloo didn't respond.

"What in tarnation?" Applejack muttered

Applejack walked up behind Scootaloo and tried to get her attention. She waved a hoof in front of her face, stomped a hoof on the ground and even tapped her on the shoulder, but aside from the occasional ear-perk, Scootaloo ignored her.

"Scootaloo! Equestria ta Scootaloo! What's wrong? What're ya lookin' at—" Applejack stopped, a small gasp escaping her throat. Eventually, she spoke again, her voice soft and pained. "Oh, sugarcube." Scootaloo could feel a foreleg wrap over her back.

"What?" Scootaloo said. She shook her head, looked up at Applejack, and attempted to hide her sadness with a grin.

"Ya okay?" Applejack said, her eyes quivering.

Scootaloo looked back at the tree. She swallowed and blinked away any errant tears. "Yeah, of course I'm _fine_." Her voice cracked. Applejack's grip tightened, but Scootaloo quickly jerked away.

"Well, uh, I guess... I guess we better go see Apple Bloom. Right, Sweetie Belle? We wouldn't want her cupcake getting cold, would we?" Scootaloo sheepishly chuckled, fumbling over her excuse.

"But, Scootaloo, the cupcake was already cold when we bought i—"

"_Would we?"_ Scootaloo repeated through clenched teeth, eyes full of desperation.

Sweetie Belle sighed. "No, we wouldn't want that." The two continued down the path towards the clubhouse while Applejack re-entered the orchard.

"See you later, Applejack!" Sweetie Belle called over her shoulder.

"Yeah, see y'all!" Applejack said, the usual luster in her voice gone like dust in a hurricane.

Scootaloo looked back at Applejack. The farmer trotted over to the tree and stared up at its broken limbs. She slowly lowered her head and collapsed to her haunches. A chill ran up Scootaloo's spine.

"You coming, Scootaloo?" Sweetie Belle yelled.

"Yeah..." Scootaloo shouted, Applejack still the center of her attention. Applejack stood up and walked towards the path. As she turned, she noticed Scootaloo and froze. Even from a distance Scootaloo could make out Applejack's bloodshot eyes.

"Come on, Scootaloo!" Sweetie Belle whined.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." Scootaloo glanced at Sweetie, then back at Applejack, but the farmer was nowhere to be found.

"Scootaloo!" Sweetie Belle shouted.

"I said I'm coming!" Scootaloo shouted back. She gave the orchard once last look before chasing after Sweetie Belle, the vision of Applejack's trembling form still ingrained in her mind.


	3. Sowing Season

_Should I?_

_Should I?_

_... Yeah, I should._

With a powerful flap, Scootaloo shot towards a low-lying tree branch, beating her wings for speed._Three... two... _She crouched down on her scooter, bit her lip and stared down the limb. In five years she had never been the first to blink, but the game of chicken still caused sweat to form on her brow. She held her breath.

_One! _

Scootaloo kicked off her scooter and flapped her wings with all her might. She soared over the branch, pushing the earth farther away with each flap. A grin stretched across her face. _This is it! I'm doing it!_

She bit her lower lip and beat her wings even harder. _Come on. Just keep flapping. This is it! Goodbye gravity! Hello sky!_

Her wings had other plans.

Her joints stiffened, making each flap smaller than the last, and she slowly descended back onto her scooter. She yanked back on the handlebars and skidded to a stop, kicking up a large cloud of dust.

Sweetie Belle coughed, fighting her way through the cloud with a flailing foreleg. Scootaloo giggled at her, but was seized by a coughing fit as well. Once the dust settled, she spoke up. "So, how was my airtime?"

"Perfect." Sweetie wheezed. Scootaloo frowned at her. Sweetie Belle sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine... it was five seconds."

Scootaloo slammed her hooves against the handlebars. "Son of a... that's the same as _last time_!"

Sweetie Belle smiled. "No... last time you got four seconds."

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "Yeah. One second is such an improvement..." She sighed and dejectedly looked at the sky. "Look, let's just get to the clubhouse."

They silently continued down the path, Scootaloo occasionally glaring at her wings. _Am I cursed? _She shook the thought away. _No... you're just sounding like a quitter. Quitters never win. Winners never give in. Win—_

"Scootaloo!"

She turned. Sweetie Belle had stopped and motioned for her to return. With a groan, she doubled back. "What is it this time?" Scootaloo muttered as she rolled up beside her.

Sweetie Belle kept her eyes on the treehouse, shaking her head. "I don't know, it's just... odd."

Scootaloo studied the clubhouse. Everything seemed to be intact: No loose boards, missing shingles or smoke to be found. From what she could tell, there wasn't a splinter out of place. She turned to Sweetie Belle, perplexed. "What's odd?"

"The door's closed. The door's never closed."

Scootaloo looked at the door. Sweetie Belle was right; the door was settled snugly in its frame. She placed a hoof under her chin and glanced upwards. _Skies are clear. Wind isn't bad. _She sighed. "Nothing wrong with the weather. Maybe something's up."

"But what?" Sweetie's voice sounded almost desperate.

"No idea."

Scootaloo parked her scooter against the base of the tree and quietly followed Sweetie Belle up the ramp. A board squeaked, and a shadow moved in the window. _What the—? _Scootaloo stopped mid-stride. "Wait up, Sweetie Belle."

"What?"

"I just saw something move in the window."

Sweetie Belle tilted her head. "Uh, yeah. Applejack told us Apple Bloom was in there, remember?"

"Oh, sure, but... it was weird. I don't know. The door's closed and, like you said, it's _never_ closed. Now I'm seeing things in the window, and I can tell you it looked bigger than Apple Bloom."

Sweetie Belle stiffened, "How much bigger?"

"Like, Head-over-the-windowsill-standing-on-four-legs bigger."

"Tha— That's pretty big."

"You don't say. Now, come on. Something's going on here, and I wanna get to the bottom of it."

Sweetie Belle nodded and waddled up the ramp. Her gaze darted around as she scanned the area for trouble. After a moment, she straightened herself up and knocked on the door. They waited for a response and could hear movement within the treehouse, but the door remained shut. She knocked again, quieter.

Scootaloo huffed, moved her aside and pushed on the door. It wouldn't budge. She grunted and rapped on the door. "Apple Bloom? You in there? It's me! Scootaloo! Sweetie Belle's here too."

No response.

She knocked again, "Come on, Apple Bloom. I can hear you in there!"

Still nothing.

"Apple Bloom! Open the door!" she yelled as she gave the door a single crushing blow.

Something fumbled around inside, but Scootaloo received no response.

She groaned. "That's it... I'm coming in!"

She bucked the door with all her might, breaking the lock and nearly taking it off its hinges. Apple Bloom shot into the air, knocking over a set of wrenches. She pressed her back against a shadowed object, panting heavily. "H-heya, Scoots," she managed to stammer. "I—"

"We just knocked on the door a trillion times!"

"Oh... y'all did? I didn't hear nothin'," she shrugged.

Sweetie Belle peeked around the doorframe. "Is it clear?" she whispered. Scootaloo nodded. Sweetie Belle smiled and skipped into the clubhouse, carefully hopping around the splinters of the door. "Hi, Apple Bloom!"

Apple Bloom grinned nervously. "Hey, Sw—"

"What do you mean you didn't hear us?" Scootaloo pressed her hoof against Apple Bloom's chest. "I knock pretty loud."

"Scoots! Calm down! Jeez!" Sweetie Belle cried.

"She's hiding something!" Scootaloo yelled. "And I'm gonna find out what it is."

Apple Bloom stared at her in horror. "What are you talkin' 'bout, Scootaloo? I ain't hidin' nothin'!"

"Yeah, right. Why was the door locked?"

"The door was locked?" Apple Bloom glanced at the entrance, then back at Scootaloo. "Thought I, uh, kept it unlocked."

"Uh-huh, sure. And I'm a griffon princess." Scootaloo pressed her hoof harder into Apple Bloom's chest. "You better start explaining or else!"

Apple Bloom snorted. "You couldn't harm a dyin' fly."

Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom against the wagon. "Well, I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong!"

"_Stop it! Both of you!"_

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom turned. Sweetie Belle glared daggers. "Jeez... she just forgot that she locked the door, Scoots. Calm down."

"But, I—"

"Calm down, Scoots." Sweetie Belle said through gritted teeth.

Sighing, Scootaloo lowered her hoof and backed away, glaring.

Apple Bloom exhaled, nervously glancing at Sweetie Belle. "Look, I'm mighty sorry I didn't hear y'all come up. I was workin', ya see, and—"

"Working on what?" Scootaloo asked, her tone suspicious.

"Scootaloo, knock it off! Would it kill you to be nice for two seconds?"

_Maybe. Would it kill Apple Bloom to spill her guts? _Scootaloo looked at the floor and managed to keep any nasty language behind her teeth.

"So, uh..." Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her neck. "Did I miss anything after I left?"

"Nothing much," Sweetie Belle shrugged, "Scootaloo and I almost got detention for talking in class, but besides that you didn't miss anything."

"How was your trip to the shrink?" Scootaloo piped up.

Apple Bloom glared. "Ya know I ain't allowed to talk 'bout that, Scoots." she turned back to Sweete Belle. "So, what are y'all doin' here?"

"Well, we didn't have anything else to do, so we stopped by Sugarcube Corner an—" her eyes brightened. "Wait! I just remembered..." Sweetie Belle beamed and bounced over to Apple Bloom. She threw her saddlebags off and rummaged through them. After a few seconds, she pulled out a cupcake and gave it to Apple Bloom. "You owe me a bit, by the way." She giggled.

Apple Bloom giggled back. "That's a month's allowance!" She made it to the second word before bursting into laughter.

_And that's funny... why? _Scootaloo thought, rolling her eyes. She leaned forward. "So, Apple Bloom. What're you doing in here anyway?"

"Well, ya see." Applebloom took a bite of the cupcake. "I've been workin' on fixin' up the ol' wagon for a while now." Bits of pastry flew from her mouth with every syllable.

"Why?" Scootaloo asked, inching away from a bit of chewed icing that landed near her. "It's not like we'd be able to use it. I don't think you two'd fit in there anymore."

"Just practicin'. I'll be needin' to help out 'round the farm soon. Big Mac and Applejack can only do so much, y'know?"

"Oh, we understand."

"Yeah, totally." Scootaloo replied, but her mind still burned with questions. _If this was it... why was she hiding it from us? Hay! Why was _she _hiding from us? _Scootaloo made a mental note to find out later. "So... what kind of fixing are you doing anyway?"

Apple Bloom shrugged. "Just the basics. Patched a hole in the bottom yesterday and was replacin' the wheels when y'all showed up."

"Neat! How do you do that?" Sweetie Belle piped.

"Well, all ya have to do is..."

Scootaloo rubbed her forehead and groaned. _So bored_. She glanced around the room, taking in the large collection of junk that had accumulated over the years: A totaled hang glider, a few half-painted canvases and countless boxes filled with the remnants of misadventures. _How many more fails before we get our cutie marks in failure?_

A series of giggles brought her back to reality. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle sat on the floor, locked in an upbeat conversation. _Must be something cool... wonder what it could be?_

"... so Pip walks over to her an—"

_Ugh! _Scootaloo retched. Gossip, along with anything remotely sappy, was something she couldn't stomach. Groaning, she looked back at the boxes to try and avoid the mushiness, but found that the objects had lost all nostalgic value. With a sigh, she reached into her saddlebags and pulled out her book. She noticed Apple Bloom's puzzled look, but chose to ignore it; Sweetie Belle could explain her newfound interest quicker and with less arguing than she would.

Scootaloo opened the book, moved her Wonderbolts bookmark out of the way and began to read.

… _She couldn't tell how long she had been staring at the waves. A minute? An hour? Did it even matter? Regardless, time had lost its effect on her many moons before; to her it was just a series of numbers, produced so a businesspony would know when to take his smoke break. The only time Daring concentrated on — the only time she cared about — was time long gone. _

_The waves crashed along the coast, adding another layer of salt to her already salty face. She had managed to calm her emotions, but the carnage left in their wake was unpresentable. Even if she wanted to return to the party, she couldn't; one strand of mane out of place and she'd be found out._

_A limb snapped behind her, and she jumped, wiping away any remaining tears. She turned and stared into the jungle, expecting a journalist or stray partygoer to shuffle out from the brush. The snapping continued, growing closer by the second. She started to panic and backed herself against a nearby boulder. A chill ran up her spine, and she gulped._

_The moonlight illuminated a pair of eyes. As they drew closer, patches of orange and white fur appeared. These tufts stretched out, connecting to two large ears and a pointed snout. It wasn't a creature from another world, but a simple fox. She sighed and slid down the boulder, onto the sand._

"_Don't scare me like that, little guy." She chuckled. Her laughter died out as the fox continued towards her, stopping mere inches from her face. Its eyes were devoid of emotion, yet gleaming with... something. She couldn't put a hoof on it, but it seemed familiar, and it freaked her out._

_The fox craned its neck, gazing down a jungle path. "The hay?" she muttered, squinting to see if there was anything unusual, but only finding shadowed trees. She looked back at the fox, who still stared down the path. It turned back to her and cocked its head._

_She threw her forelegs in the air. "What?" she whispered harshly. The fox continued to stare, unmoving, and from what she could tell, unbreathing. Daring shivered. "What? What do you want?"_

_It stared. _

"_I don't have any food, if that's what you're looking for."_

_It stared._

_Daring shook her head and stood, but as she rose, the fox snatched her helmet and sprinted down the path. By the time she was able to process what had happened, the fox had vanished. "Come back here, you!" With a powerful flap of her wings, she gave chase._

_Branches scraped against her face, but she focused on the path, hoping to catch sight of the fox through the sea of leaves. _

_As she progressed further into the brush she began to hear a sound. It was faint at first — barely audible over her shaky breathing — but it quickly grew into a thunderous crashing. By the time she came to a clearing, she couldn't hear herself think._

_Not that she had much to think about; the sight left her breathless. _

_A dazzling waterfall towered above. Roaring streams of greenish-blue water crashed upon mile high rocks. She craned her neck, trying to guess its height, but a thick mist concealed the top. She whistled in amazement as she watched the water trace cracks in the mossy stones._

_Through the cascading water she saw an orange and black tail disappear into an opening. She growled and gave chase, sprinting up a path that ran behind the waterfall. "Come back here, you! My father gave me that!" she yelled, thinking that that would somehow make the fox stop. _

_She took a deep breath and unfurled her wings, flapping them to gain speed. Water splashed against her face as she rocketed towards the cave. Slabs of rock jutted out of the wall, giving her mere inches to squeeze through. A flash of orange briefly appeared near the cave. "I see you!" Daring roared. Her wings burned, but the pain was outweighed by her searing rage. She shot through a tiny opening between a boulder and the wall, scraping the side of her face on the rock. Daring winced, muttering curses as she felt a warm wetness trickle down her face. _

_She shot around another rock and saw the cave mere feet in front of her. Daring grinned. "You're mine now."_

"_Daring..."_

_Her wings tensed, and her mouth dried. "What the—" _

_Daring felt like she'd taken a mountain to the skull._

_Groaning, she sat up, rubbing her head with her hoof. Pain was something she dealt with on a regular basis, and "flying into rock headfirst" fell into the top tier. She lightly touched her nose, and she yelped. "Great,"_ she muttered, "_Gashes AND a broken nose._ _Just perfect... At this rate I'll be brain dead by sunrise." _

_Somewhere in the cave, a rock fell._

"_I hear you!" Daring yelled. "Give me back my helmet, or I swear to Celestia I will make you wish you were never born._

_The only response was the echos of her ragged breathing. _

"_Fine. You wanna do this the hard way? We'll do this hard way!"_

_She ran forward, but collided with solid rock. "What the..." Shaking her head, she stuck out her forehoof and pushed, but the result was the same. She reached behind and felt more rock. She gulped and thrust her hooves out to her side. A dull thud echoed through the cave. Her legs shook; she was trapped. "Not. Good." she mumbled._

_A pebble fell behind her and bumped against her leg. She screamed and flailed her forelegs like a madmare. she made contact with something soft. She pushed against it, but it didn't budge. Then she punched it with all her might and felt it compress._

_The thing grunted. "Ow... jeez, that hurt!"_

_She gasped and fell to the floor. Between ragged breaths she was able to stutter out a single word. "D-dad?"_

"_Yes, honey... it's me." his voice was as gentle as she remembered. _

"_B-but... how?"_

"_That's not important. Not now, at least."_

"_Yes it is! You're... you're dead. I shouldn't be... this doesn't make any sense!"_

"_Not much does."_

"_I'm going mad," she muttered, mostly to herself. "I've gone off the deep end."_

"_I assure you, honey. You are not mad."_

_She snorted. "How can I take assurance from a figment?"_

"_Lift your hoof."_

"_What?"_

"_Just lift it."_

_Daring did as she was told. She was greeted with the familiar feel of emptiness: hot air, heavy emotions and coarse strands of—_

_She retracted her hoof as if it were on fire. "No! This can't... No!" She lifted her hoof, hoping that her mind was simply playing tricks. Once more she touched wispy hairs. A cannonball dropped in her chest._

"_Told you." Her father chuckled. A weight pressed against her shoulder, and she could barely suppress the urge to scream. "O-o-okay... so... I'm not crazy. But that still doesn't explain anything."_

"_Oh, but it does."_

"_How?"_

"_Why do you think I'm able to talk to you? Why am I here and not sitting on a cloud, strumming a harp right now?"_

"_Because you'd be swimming in a lake of fire." Daring chuckled, and her father chuckled back. The sound of his laugh still sent chills down her spine. "No, but really... I have no idea why."_

"_Because there's a back door, honey. It's not as final as you think."_

"_What's not fin—"_

"_Death, you numbskull!" Her father's voice was halfway between a laugh and legitimate frustration. "All these years and I still have to spoon feed you everything?"_

"_No, you don't! I knew that, you just... caught me off guard is all." She exhaled and rubbed the back of her neck. _I'm talking to a ghost,_ she thought to herself, _I'm talking to a damn ghost and acting like it's normal_. She cleared her throat and spoke. "I get what you're saying, Dad, but... I still don't really understand."_

"_Well, you remember that time that you sat in on one of my physics lectures?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Remember how long and boring that was?"_

_She laughed. "I fell asleep after five minutes."_

"_Yeah, explaining all this would take way more time than we have. I'll just give you the quick version, okay?"_

"_Alright."_

"_Well, you see... Hmm, how do I explain this? There are two 'worlds,' right? The world of the living and the world of the dead."_

"_You're already starting to lose me."_

"_Well, deal with it. That's the simplest way that I can explain it. Anyway, there's these two worlds, and between them is a border. A barrier keeping them separate. Well, even the most well-made walls have the occasional crack, and this one is no exception. There are holes in this barrier that the living and dead can enter each world through. _

"_There is security, however. There are guards and hunters, and nopony lasts too long on the wrong side of the veil. Also, only the spirit can go through. The body is forced to remain behind, unless—"_

_The world suddenly shook, and a loud, animal-like roar echoed through the cave. Daring heard her father sigh. "Oh dear, I'm out of time."_

"_Out of time? What?"_

"_Sorry, too much info, not enough time. Library. Top-right shelf. Red cover. Page one sixty-four. It'll tell you what you need to know."_

"_What?" she screamed, barely able to hear herself over the roaring._

"_Sorry. I love you."_

"_Wai—"_

_The roar escalated, the vibrations knocking Daring flat on her back. She covered her ears with her hooves, but the sound still pierced her eardrums. It seemed to drone on for minutes, for hours, for eternity._

_And then it ceased._

_The ringing in Daring's ears was deafening. Her thoughts, her words, her breaths — all was muted. Slowly, she lifted herself to her hooves and stumbled around, bumping into unseen walls. Her senses filed back in, carrying her memories with it. She gasped and looked around._

"_D-dad?" she stuttered out, expecting a hearty chuckle and some good-natured ribbing in return. Only an echo responded. "Dad!" she cried out again, shaking from head to hoof. She clutched her head. "No... no..." she muttered. The silence, the pain, it all strangled her. "Dad!" she shrieked with what little energy she had left._

_The ground trembled, and the roar came back, as piercing and venomous as before. Her legs fell out from under her as slabs of rock rained down on her back. She should've run — she could've run — but she didn't, and it was now too late._

_The earth gave one last heave, and the roof collapsed._

"_Miss Doo? Miss Doo? Are you alright?"_

_A stick prodded her side, and she swatted it away with a foreleg. Groggily, she opened her eyes, but immediately regretted it. Another tropical day greeted her: the warmness of the sun , the scent of salt and the sound of water. "Perfect hangover weather," she mumbled, leaning her head back against a boulder. Once her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she opened them and glared at her alarm clock — a teenage colt dressed in a white shirt and bowtie. He recoiled, sweat obvious on his trembling, acne covered face._

"_Let me guess... they sent you... to find... me." She felt the desire to collapse back into the sand right then and there._

_He nodded. She could hear his teeth chattering. _

"_Fine... you found me. Go." She shooed him away with a hoof, and he complied. Once he was out of sight, she stretched herself out and groaned, rubbing her throbbing head. _Note to self: only drink four glasses of champagne next time.

_She turned her head and wretched, emptying the previous night's poison on the unsuspecting the heaves subsided, she opened her watering eyes. Moaning, she stumbled to her hooves and shuffled to a nearby tide pool. She wet her hooves and rubbed them against her burning head. As she lowered her hooves, her reflection caught her eye._

_She was a mess. _

_Her bloodshot eyes were puffy and surrounded by thick black rims. Sand, vomit and night-old drool caked her mouth and chin. Her mane jutted out at acute angles. She cocked her head. _The hay? I coulda sworn I had my helmet last night.

_Lazily, she glanced around for her helmet. Finding no trace of it nearby, she groaned. Movement was unavoidable. Muttering the curses of ancient tribes, she wandered around the beach, eyes fixed on the walked until she felt wakes sliding over her hooves then turned around. As she did, an opening in the jungle caught her eye. Daring shrugged and trotted towards it. _I've found it in stranger places, _she thought. She made it to the boulder she had woken up at before the previous night reentered her mind._

_She stumbled about before falling back against the boulder, gasping for air. "Did... did that? Did it? No! That was a dream, it couldn't possibly... have... ugh!" she smacked her head against the rock. Something heavy fell on her head, and she fell to her knees. Rubbing her sore skull, she caught sight of an object lying at her hooves. She blinked her vision into focus and gave the object a once-over. It was her helmet._

"_The hay?" She leaned down, picked it up and glanced at the rock. "How much did I drink last night?"She chuckled to nopony in particular. She flipped her helmet around in her hooves and noticed an object inside the crown. She pulled it out and smiled._

_It was a single picture, a snapshot of her and her father outside of an old temple. She giggled at the sight of his bushy beard — so many times she had begged him to shave it, and each time he refused._

_The sound of rustling leaves brought her out of her reverie. She scanned the treeline, but found no signs of life. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, but she shook off the chills. "It was just a dream..." she whispered to herself. "That's all it was." Still, no amount of reassurances could stop the nagging feeling._

'_Red cover. Page one sixty-four.'_

_Sighing, she donned her helmet. The grogginess had dissipated, and she marched down the beach towards her father's house. The guests had probably departed during the night, meaning she had plenty of time to research and plan. _

_She had a long journey ahead of her._

Scootaloo stood without a word, stepping on the pages of her book as she walked to the back of the room. Her body was numb, and her mind racing.

"Uh, Scootaloo? What are you doing?" Sweetie Belle asked from behind, voice uneasy. Scootaloo knew why Sweetie seemed nervous; the box may have looked like all the others, but it contained the most wrenching memories.

Sweetie Belle quickly trotted over to Scootaloo and placed a hoof on her shoulder. "How about we go... uh... play a game of tag!" She tapped Scootaloo. "You're it!" she cried out, voice squeaking, as she ran to the door. Scootaloo didn't follow. Instead, she wedged her hooves under the lid of the box and opened it. Sweetie Belle whimpered as Scootaloo pulled out a cyan balloon pony.

Scootaloo turned it in her hoof, flinching with each squeak. The nose sagged slightly — an expected side effect of time — but for the most part, it was in surprisingly good shape. _Did Pinkie make this for me? I want to say it was Pinkie, but... something tells me that somepony else had a hoof in this. Twilight? Rarity? No, not Rarity... she wouldn't come within two inches of this thing. _She studied the rainbow tail through squinted eyes._No this is definitely Pinkie Pie stuff. Only me and her remember that it goes red, orange, yellow instead of red, yellow, orange._

She set the balloon aside and rummaged through the rest of the items. They were mostly miscellaneous — a blanket, some matches, a half-eaten candy cane — but there were some that Scootaloo knew all too well; ones that warmed and crushed her heart simultaneously.

Scootaloo chuckled, pulled out an aged sheet of paint-covered paper. "Hey, Apple Bloom. Remember this?"

The painting, done entirely in watercolor, depicted what Scootaloo could only guess was herself flying beside a blue blob that she assumed was Rainbow Dash. They appeared to be locked in a battle with a monster — a dragon with a wolf's face and tentacles for teeth — but considering the quality of the piece, they may have been baking a cake.

Apple Bloom shuddered, but gave a forced a smile. "Unfortunately. I gave ya that for your... seventh birthday? I think it was your seventh, but I ain't sure. Ya said you wanted sometin' that was 'cool' and 'awesome' and such." She chuckled. "Boy howdy, I sure've come a long way. Look at that! The coloring, the shapes, the concept. It stinks worse than Winona's breath after she gets into the onion patch."

Scootaloo tuned her out and glanced back down at the assorted memories. She tossed the poster back in the box and walked to back to her book. Scootaloo picked it up and skimmed over the last sentence in the chapter before flipping it closed. _It's destiny... that's what it is. That's the only thing that it could be._

She looked up. Apple Bloom's nostalgic expression faded when she made eye contact. Scootaloo couldn't see her own face, but she was sure her expression wasn't pleasant. Not that she cared what she looked like at that moment. She had an announcement to make, a fate to seal.

"I'm going.


	4. Prelude to Peregrination

**Chapter Four**

Apple Bloom stared at Scootaloo, head tilted and eyebrow raised. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a droning "Uhh..." came out. Scootaloo didn't look up, keeping her eyes on the book, scanning the words over and over again.

_Two worlds... Barrier... Holes... Journey..._

"Uh... Scoots? Equestria to Scoots. Hello?" Apple Bloom yelled, waving a hoof in front of Scootaloo's face. "Yer 'goin''? Goin' where? Why? What the hay are ya talkin' 'bout?"

Scootaloo's eyes remained glued to the book.

Apple Bloom glanced at Sweetie Belle, as if expecting her to suddenly have an answer, but she shrugged and spoke up as well, voice cracking.

"Yeah, Scoots. What are you talking about?"

Scootaloo's mouth twitched, but she didn't look up. "I'm going..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. We heard that. Don't make a lick of sense, though," Apple Bloom said, staring her down.

"I'm going."

Apple Bloom placed her face in her hoof and groaned. "Ya said that a million times already. What the hay ya goin' on 'bout? _Where_ the hay are ya off ta?"

"I'm going to get Rainbow back."

The room fell silent.

"_What_?" Sweetie Belle collapsed onto her haunches, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"I'm going to get Rainbow back."

"Are ya serious?" Apple Bloom scoffed, earning a glare from Scootaloo. She ignored it and continued. "You're serious? You really think..." She trailed off, shaking her head and scrunching her nose. "Unbelievable," she muttered, just loud enough for Scootaloo to hear.

"Of course I'm serious!" Scootaloo's cheeks burned hot like the sun. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Well... let's see." Apple Bloom paced around her before stopping in front of her. She tapped her chin with her hoof and glanced at the ceiling, as if its boards held the answer. "Because..." She lowered her hoof and glowered. "It's_stupid_!"

Apple Bloom didn't have time to react before Scootaloo dashed forward, coming nose to nose with her. "_Stupid_?" Her voice shook the clubhouse. "It's not stupid!"

"Sounds pretty stupid to me," Apple Bloom scoffed. "I mean... gettin' Rainbow back? That there's crazy talk."

"No, it's not!"

Apple Bloom sighed and reached out, patting Scootaloo's shoulder. "Look, Scootaloo. I know this is hard on ya... Celestia knows it's hard for me, but..." She stared at the floor and took a shaky breath.

Scootaloo furrowed her brow. _The hay? What's wrong with..._ A sniffle graced Scootaloo's ears._ Is she... crying_?

Scootaloo backed away and cleared her throat. "Uh... Apple Bloom? You all right?"

Apple Bloom wiped her face with her foreleg and cleared her throat. "I'm fine... just somethin' in my eye..." She sighed. "Scoots... this ain't easy for any of us, but... but this ain't helpin'. Ain't helpin' you, ain't helpin' me, ain't helpin' nopony."

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. "The hay are you saying?"

"I'm saying that ya need ta let this go. Hold onta Rainbow, but don't hold onta a pipe dream."

"A pipe dream?" Scootaloo snorted. "That's what you think this is?" she picked up her book, opened it to the first page, and pressed it into Apple Bloom's face. "Look here, Apple Bloom. Look at this map! Notice anything familiar?"

Apple Bloom shoved the book off her muzzle and scanned the map. She frowned. "No, b—"

"Look right here!" Scootaloo tapped the lower right corner of the page with her hoof. "You see the name? Right beside that dot?"

"Canterlot." Apple Bloom looked up and shrugged. "So?"

Scootaloo's jaw dropped. "So? So there's a chance that this could be real!"

"What's 'this?' What am I s'pposed ta be lookin' for here?"

"Here! Look here!" Scootaloo tapped near the center of the page. "That mountain right there is where the Phoenix Pool is."

"What the hay is a 'Phoenix Pool'? Sounds like a swimmin' hole."

"A swimming hole? A swimming... Really?" Scootaloo groaned and massaged her forehead with her hoof. "No, no... it's not a 'swimming hole.' It's this... well, it's basically a place where you can find... dead things and bring them back."

Apple Bloom snorted. "Sounds like a load of hogwash."

"No! this is... there's a chance." Scootaloo closed her eyes and dredged for an answer that wasn't there.

"There's a chance that Winona could sprout wings and a horn, and be named heir ta the throne, but ya don't see me spoutin' that off as fact."

"This... this is different. This is—"

"This is important ta ya... yeah, I know. But ya got—"

Scootaloo slammed her hoof against the floor. "You're damn right she's important to me! And that's why I'm going to do something about it."

Apple Bloom groaned. "Scootaloo. Quit bein' a fool. Ya—"

"Oh, cut the crap, Apple Bloom."

"_Crap_? What crap?" Apple Bloom's mouth curved into a disgusted frown. "Scoots, what're ya—"

"Stop acting like you care... like you're hurt. You didn't know her like I did. You—"

"_Shut up_!"

Scootaloo nearly fell to the floor as Apple Bloom bore down on her. She backed herself against the wall, and stared up at her enraged friend through shrunken, shaking pupils.

"You... _selfish_..." Apple Bloom seethed, her face reddening. "Ya think I ain't torn up 'bout Rainbow? Ya think that just 'cause I didn't worship the ground she stood on that I don't care? Haven't ya wondered why I've been goin' ta see that psychologist the last two weeks? It sure as hay ain't 'cause of no pimples."

Scootaloo stared at her hooves as she rubbed them together. "Apple Bloom... I... Look, I had no id—"

"Stop... just stop, Scoots. Ya've been a real jerk the whole time ya've been here," Apple Bloom said, head lowered and eyes set in a glower. "Honestly, I've had enough of ya at the moment." She trudged to the door, stopping briefly to give Sweetie Belle a quick pat on the back and whisper something in her ear. They exchanged nods, and Apple Bloom swiftly trotted out the door. Before descending the ramp, she turned to Scootaloo. "Ya go on ahead with yer little adventure. It ain't gonna do ya no good."

With that she turned and trotted down the ramp.

"What the hay was that all about? Can you believe her?" Scootaloo looked at Sweetie Belle, perplexed.

Sweetie Belle stared out the window, mind obviously elsewhere. "I..."

"Sweetie... what's wrong? You okay?"

"She's right," Sweetie Belle said flatly, refusing to make eye contact. "You need help."

Scootaloo frowned and cocked her head to the side. "Huh? What? What do you mean, 'help?'"

"You're scaring me, Scoots..."

Scootaloo laughed nervously. "How? I'm as big as you are? I... you seriously think I'm scary?"

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. "Not like that, you dodo. The way you're acting. It scares me. It's scaring all of us."

"What are you talking about?"

Sweetie Belle sighed and shook her head. "Come on, Scootaloo. You think I'm that stupid? Just an hour ago you were acting like you'd seen a ghost. You took one look at that tree and you froze up." She trotted to the front window, and stared off into the orchard. "Then you come here and just blow up in Apple Bloom's face. And... And then..." her voice shook. "_Then_ you say you're going on some wild goose chase. It—"

"Woah, woah, woah. Wild goose chase? Sweetie... don't tell me you don't believe me either."

Sweetie Belle sighed and lowered her head, biting her lip and glancing at the floor through darting, quivering eyes. Scootaloo cleared her throat, and Sweetie Belle looked up at her, eyes misted. "I'm sorry. I want to believe you, but... I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Sweetie Belle tapped her hoof against the floor and glanced around the room. "I... I don't know why. I just can't..."

Scootaloo slammed a hoof on the floor. "_Why_?"

Sweetie Belle recoiled, lowering her head and trembling. "Please, Scoots. Don't be mad."

"Answer me!"

"I... I..." Sweetie Belle stammered. She lowered herself to the floor.

Scootaloo looked away, shaking her head as she scolded herself. _Stop it! She didn't do a damn thing. Don't take your frustrations out on her._

Scootaloo sighed and trotted to the table. She picked up the Rainbow Dash balloon and turned it in her hoof._This isn't how she'd act..._ Scootaloo let out a sad sigh and placed the balloon back on the table.

"Sweetie Belle?" she called over her shoulder.

"What?"

"Sorry for yelling at you." She walked back to her friend, and sat down. Sweetie Belle glanced at her for a second, but quickly looked away. Scootaloo bit her lip but wrapped a foreleg around her. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Sweetie Belle smiled. "It's okay."

Silence overtook them once more. Scootaloo glanced out the window and noticed that a hint of orange was starting to grow in the sky. "Wow, this late already?" she muttered. "I'd better get going."

"Yeah, same here."

Scootaloo lifted herself up and, after stretching out her cramped hind legs, trotted out the door and down the ramp, Sweetie Belle on her heels. Once they reached the bottom, Scootaloo retrieved her scooter and flapped her wings, warning her tense muscles that they'd soon be working double-time. She rode up beside Sweetie Belle. "Want a ride?"

Sweetie shook her head. "No, I'll pass."

Scootaloo giggled and leaned on the handlebars. "What? You chicken?"

"No. I'd just prefer to _not_ break my neck."

"Oh, come on. I'm not that bad."

"Sure, whatever you say Miss 'I Only Crashed Two Times This Week.'"

"Hey, that's a personal record!"

Sweetie Belle giggled and trotted down the path, Scootaloo rolling close behind.

They were almost out of the orchard when Sweetie Belle spoke up.

"So... are you still going?"

"Huh?"

"That whole 'getting Rainbow Dash back' thing. Are you still going to do it?"

Scootaloo looked to the sky and sighed. _Of course I'm still going to do it_, she wanted to answer._ I'm not going to change my mind and quit just like that!_ However, once she saw Sweetie Belle's pleading look, she brushed it aside. "Nah. It was a silly idea, anyway."

Sweetie Belle smiled. "Okay. So... you want to meet up here tomorrow?"

"Do you think Apple Bloom would let us?" Scootaloo asked, eyes locked on the path before her.

"She'll be fine. She just needs some time to cool off, like you did."

Scootaloo nodded. "Well... I'm not sure about tomorrow. How's Sunday sound?"

"Sounds fine with me."

"Great. See you then."

"All right, see you Scootaloo." Sweetie Belle waved and gaily trotted in the direction of Ponyville.

Once she was out of sight, Scootaloo sighed and rolled down the path towards home.

*N*

Scootaloo rolled down the path at a snail's pace, gaze set on the dry earth. A cool wind brushed against her back, rustling her already disheveled mane . She lifted a hoof and wiped her bangs out of her eyes for the umpteenth time. As she lowered her hoof, she caught sight of the red leaves that loosely hung from their branches as they swayed in the breeze, and she felt a smile tug at her lips.

Soon the annual Running of the Leaves would occur, and the entire path would be covered with a reddish-orange blanket. _Tons of fun to ride over_. Scootaloo smirked as she thought about the coming months. The Running of the Leaves was always memorable, but there were also the pumpkin muffins at Sugarcube Corner, the clouds of fallen leaves shooting out behind her scooter as she rushed over them, and the long evenings spent crusading with only the fireflies to light the way. _Good times, good times_.

The feelings of peace were short-lived. Scootaloo doubted that there would be much crusading this autumn. She lowered her head, rested her chin on the handlebars, and fretted.

Apple Bloom's bitter words still rang in her ears. Losing her idol was hard enough, but losing a friend over a silly argument? That was something Scootaloo doubted she'd be able to live down.

_I'm going to fix this... somehow_. Though the voice in her head carried a tinge of uncertainty. Normally, she would have puffed out her chest and charged at the problem headfirst, but there was something about what Apple Bloom had said, or rather, the way she had said it.

_She sounded like she hated me._

Scootaloo stopped her scooter. _She sounded like she really hated me._ She sighed and leaned forward on the handlebars, letting the sun beat down on her troubled mind.

A squeak pierced the silence. She perked up, glancing up and down the path. Not a single soul was on the road, but the squeak filled the air once more. Curious, Scootaloo slowly rolled forward, keeping her ears and eyes open for anything suspicious.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash, and Scootaloo fell backwards, landing painfully on her haunches. She staggered to her hooves, coughing and brushing dust off her coat. She looked around and realized with a slight grimace where she was. Mumbling, she hopped on her scooter and rolled forward, and within seconds was beside a stream and staring directly Fluttershy's cottage.

Passing by Fluttershy's home was a daily routine. The only path to Scootaloo's house from Sweet Apple Acres ran right by it, but Scootaloosped past it as fast as her scooter would allow. Especially nowadays; she didn't want to risk seeing Fluttershy in the pitiful state she was surely in.

Fluttershy had changed since the incident. She had shut herself in — locking all the doors and windows — and Scootaloo hadn't seen her since. There were rumors, however. Featherweight had weaved a tale at lunch two days before, claiming that he'd seen Fluttershy standing in the pond beside her house. Not swimming or watching a family of ducks or anything. Just standing in neck-deep water. Though Scootaloo doubted the legitimacy of Featherweight's story, there was something about it that seemed believable.

The squeak pierced the air again. It seemed closer, but Scootaloo still couldn't make out where or what it was. "Probably just my imagination," she muttered, turning to ride away from the cottage as quickly as possible, and right into a large red nose.

"Nope! Just me!"

A red blob filled Scootaloo's vision, and she screamed, swinging a hoof at it as she staggered back. A foalish giggle emitted from the blob, and Scootaloo frowned.

_Pinkie..._

"That tickles. Do it again!" Pinkie Pie squealed.

Scootaloo shook her head and tried to catch her breath. "Jeez, Pinkie, you scared the feathers off of me. What are you..." Scootaloo tilted her head. "Uh, why are you dressed like a clown?"

Pinkie grinned, stretching the white and red paint on her face out into a rather disturbing smile. Another squeak rang out as she stepped forward. Scootaloo looked down and saw that extra-large flippers adorned each hoof._All she needs now are some balloons_, Scootaloo chuckled at the thought, but stopped when she noticed two large yellow, banana-shaped ones floating behind Pinkie's frilly mane.

"Why not?" Pinkie piped up, somehow managing to smile even wider. Scootaloo groaned and placed a hoof on her scooter, spreading her wings. _It's just Pinkie_, her mind told her. These words of encouragement didn't calm her nerves. _You don't dress like a clown and walk around just 'cause. This is strange... even by Pinkie standards_.

Scootaloo cleared her throat. "So, uh... Pinkie. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just here to see Fluttershy."

"Ah..." Scootaloo slackened her guard. "How is she?"

"Fluttershy and I are having a party!"

Scootaloo's mouth fell open. "Wha... What?"

"A party," Pinkie repeated. "You know? Balloons, cake, music, games, punch, smiles, balloons..."

"I know what it is. I'm just... it's just... weird."

Pinkie blinked, still smiling. "Why? There's nothing weird about parties. Well, okay, maybe there are some weird parties. Like the mango-themed one I threw a few years ago, but besides that they're not weird at all!"

"They are when you..." Scootaloo sighed and looked away. She was tired of talking about Rainbow, but her mind kept drifting in that direction. Scootaloo turned back to Pinkie, but kept her eyes lowered. "When you just lost somepony close to you."

"Really? That's the best time to party!"

Scootaloo grunted and waved her hoof. "Yeah, yeah. 'Think of the good times,' 'celebrate her memory!' And all that stuff. Irregardless, I'm pretty sure Fluttershy's not in the _partying _mood. I haven't seen her outside her house recently."

"Well, you haven't been looking much, have you? She's always in town. Why, just this morning she was in Sugarcube Corner for, like, forever. Even ate five muffins. It was crazy! Then there was..."

Scootaloo receded into the less spastic comforts of her mind. Pinkie could, and would, talk for hours on end. Ignoring her was a lesson Scootaloo had learned quickly. She had learned more about the mating habits of bunnies during her sixth birthday party than she ever wanted to know.

Her head would occasionally bob in an agreeable nod, but Scootaloo kept most of her attention locked on the cottage. The very thought of Fluttershy _partying_ at such a moment was a real head-scratcher.

Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash had been friends since about the dawn of time. The fact that such opposite ponies could tolerate each other, let alone become close friends, was sometimes difficult for Scootaloo to swallow, but Scootaloo was one to talk. Sweetie Belle had been one of her closest friends for as long as she could remember, and they had next to nothing in common.

_I guess opposites do attract._

If Fluttershy and Rainbow had been as close as it seemed, Scootaloo was sure Fluttershy wouldn't want to get out of bed, let alone party. While braver than she let on, Fluttershy was still a timid and fragile mare. Scootaloo didn't even want to think about how devastated she was.

_Only partying she'd be doing is drowning her sorrows. _

She noticed that Pinkie was still talking, so she shifted her attention back to her.

"... And Rarity jumps up and yells, 'Not my debutante gown, you produce producing dolt!' So, Applejack stares her down, and you know what she does?"

Scootaloo shrugged, completely lost. "I don't know. What?"

"She tosses the rest of the outfit into the mud... including the headdress!" Pinkie Pie burst into a fit of laughter and fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt and clutching her stomach. "It was so funny," she managed to squeak out between gasps.

Scootaloo did her best to chuckle along, but she knew she was far from convincing. Not that her performance mattered. Pinkie's laughs were loud enough to wake the dead.

Not to mention loud enough to mask approaching hoofsteps.

"Hi, Pinkie."

Pinkie stopped laughing and sat up. Scootaloo turned her head and had to suppress a gasp.

Fluttershy stood in front of them, two songbirds perched on her back. She smiled at Pinkie Pie, chin up and back straight. Scootaloo couldn't remember a time when Fluttershy had stood taller. It was perplexing.

_She didn't even notice me_. Scootaloo waited for Fluttershy to glance over and throw a warm smile in her direction, but Fluttershy kept staring at Pinkie, unaware of Scootaloo's presence.

Scootaloo stared quizzically at Fluttershy and noticed a glint in her eyes. A hint of something Scootaloo couldn't put her hoof on. Desperation? Torment? Scootaloo didn't have time to find an answer before Pinkie Pie scooped Fluttershy up in a bear hug.

"Heya, 'Shy! You ready to _partay_?"

"Of course. I always am." Fluttershy replied without mumbling or shying away. Scootaloo narrowed her eyes, her suspicion and confusion rising with each blink.

"Well, then. Let's get this party started!" Pinkie shouted.

They broke their embrace and quickly trotted towards the cabin. Scootaloo followed as quickly as her tiny legs would allow, but the two mares had disappeared behind the cottage long before Scootaloo could reach a steady gallop. As she neared the cottage, she caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and peered into the woods, but whatever had been in the trees had vanished.

"Must be seeing things," Scootaloo muttered before turning and trotting towards the cottage once more.

Behind the cottage was a small table with a vase full of wildflowers and tea set resting in the center. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy sat on opposite ends of the table, chatting and sipping from their cups. Well, Fluttershy was sipping. Pinkie was downing cups of tea like they were shots of punch.

Scootaloo slowly walked up to the table, eyebrow arched, debating whether or not she should leave. She plopped down in the grass and looked up at Fluttershy quizzically. Scootaloo studied every detail of Fluttershy — eyes, posture, mouth — searching for a hint. Something smelled fishy, but the answer escaped her.

"... Mr. Cat and the Mice family have finally settled their differences." said Fluttershy.

"Great!" Pinkie blurted, downing another cup of tea.

"And Mrs. Bluejay's sore throat has finally healed up, thank Celestia. I was so worried that I'd have to find another contralto. Do you know how hard it is to find one at this time of year?"

Pinkie shrugged and shoveled three chocolate teacakes into her mouth. "I have no idea."

"Difficult._ Really_ difficult." Fluttershy sighed and stared into her cup.

_Like 'losing your best friend' difficult_? Scootaloo thought. She could see through the facade — could see the hurricane brewing right below the surface — but she had no idea what to do about it. A hug may let Fluttershy release her emotions, but hugging wasn't Scootaloo's thing. Prodding her with questions wouldn't do much good either; Fluttershy would probably just shrug them off and continue chatting with Pinkie while ignoring Scootaloo completely. Still, Scootaloo felt the need to do _something_, so she decided to give talking a shot.

"So, umm, Fluttershy... uh, what's up?"

Surprisingly, Fluttershy looked down, giving a warm smile. "Oh, the same old stuff. Feeding the animals, having fun with my friends."

_Nuh-uh, Not buyin' it_. Scootaloo cleared her throat. "You sure nothing's bothering you?"

"Oh, no," Fluttershy shook her head vigorously.

Scootaloo cocked her head. "Are you _sure_?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Fluttershy flashed a too-wide grin. "Everything's been just fine... just fine... just..." Her smile faded, and she glanced downwards, seemingly enthralled by the tablecloth. Pinkie had stopped chowing down, and now looked at Fluttershy with concern.

The sound of wood sliding on grass filled the air as Fluttershy pushed her chair back. She turned and trotted away from the table, eyes downcast and a blank expression on her face. Pinkie Pie swallowed a mouthful of cake — chasing it with the rest of the tea in the kettle — jumped up and pursued her distraught friend. Scootaloo looked on in shock as they both disappeared into the cottage, the door slamming behind them.

A chorus of voices arose within the house almost as soon as the doorframe stopped shaking. Scootaloo snuck to the window, hoping to catch the conversation.

"Fluttershy? What's wrong? Answer me!" Pinkie pleaded .

"What's wrong? What's _wrong_? You know what's wrong!" Fluttershy's voice cracked, not used to projecting such anger or volume.

"Please, 'Shy, don't yell at me. I... Fluttershy... you're crying."

"Of course I am," Fluttershy sniffled.

"Why?"

"Why? Why shouldn't I?"

"Because being sad won't—"

"I know! Okay, I know it won't help... I know that, it's just... Scootaloo... she... I... I can't!" Fluttershy burst into a loud series of pathetic sobs.

"Hey, now... c'mere," Pinkie said quietly, all her youthful energy vanishing as she sniffled herself.

"I... I'm barely holding it together as is, Pinkie," Fluttershy wept, her words muffled in Pinkie Pie's coat. "I can't even leave the house without seeing something that reminds me of her, and even then there are the books, and the pictures... and then there's Tank always wandering around the yard, confused and scared and... alone. And... and... then Scootaloo shows up out of the blue... and Rainbow was always... Rainbow... I... I miss her, Pinkie. I... I want her back... I want her back..." Fluttershy's voice dissolved into a series of squeaks, sobs and whimpers.

"Shh," Pinkie whispered, her voice sounding like it belonged to a completely different pony. "It's okay, Fluttershy... I do too... it's okay..." Pinkie's voice cracked, sending a chill down Scootaloo's spine. She had never heard Pinkie Pie express any emotion that wasn't jolly or one of its synonyms. To hear Pinkie's voice crack under the strain of her emotions was spine-chilling.

Scootaloo listened carefully, wondering if the conversation was going to continue. Her ear perked up at a sudden shaky inhalation, but it was followed by another series of sniffles and muffled sobs.

Scootaloo sighed and slowly walked away from the cottage, leaving the two ponies to release their emotions in peace.

_Is this all I am? A problem causer?_ She wanted the answer to be 'no,' but all she could see was a giant, glowing 'yes.'

Her mind was elsewhere as she rounded the corner of the cottage, and she nearly ran smack into a very familiar tortoise.

"Tank?"

Scootaloo grinned, leaning down and patting him on the head. The tortoise looked at her with expressionless eyes, but the hint of a smile rested on his weathered lips Although she sometimes questioned Tank's intelligence, she could tell that he recognized her. She hadn't spent much time around him, but the times she had were interesting moments to say the least.

"Hey, dude. 'Sup?"

Tank blinked.

"Fluttershy treating you good?"

Tank blinked again.

Scootaloo looked over her shoulder and sighed. "Look, Tank... I don't know what you know or don't, or what you're going through, but... I wanna let you know that I'm going to get her back. Rainbow, that is. I know you probably miss her. I... I do too, and... that's why I'm going. Not just for me, but for you... for Fluttershy... for everypony."

Tank blinked and smiled, and Scootaloo grinned, rubbing the top of his rough head. The explanation had been more of an excuse, but Scootaloo thought it was good enough reasoning, and Tank seemed to be buying it. She chuckled and gave Tank one last pat on the shell before standing and trotting towards the path. She looked over her shoulder and saw Tank watching her. Scootaloo smiled and waved a hoof. "See you around, bud. Keep Fluttershy company... she needs it."

Tank blinked and smiled.

Scootaloo waved one last time before pushing off and speeding down the path.

*A*

Maler studied the map, squinting and rubbing his chin. "So, the sculptors will be set up on Main Street?" He placed a hoof on the wrinkled sheet of paper.

"That is correct," Rarity replied as she read over the checklist.

"And the painting booths will be on Goldwire?" he pointed to the other end.

"Mhm."

He looked up, eyes narrowed. "Aren't we being a bit unfair to the potters?"

"The potters have gotten Main the past two years. The sculptors got shoved into the botanical gardens last year. That's much too far away from their fellow artisans. It's only fair that they get the opportunity to actually show off their goods this year."

"Yes, but pottery bring in a huge profit. If we shove them into the alley, aren't we doing more harm than good?"

She laughed "I wouldn't worry about that. I have some splendid designs all set up. Extravagant, luxurious and, most importantly, valuable. We'll be able to turn a healthy profit without those lazy potters. Good heavens, Maler, for a sculptor you sure are intent on selling yourself short," she looked to the corner of the room. "Not to mention... some of those sculptures are, dare I say, your best work yet."

Maler shrugged. "I don't think any of them are in my top five."

"Well, it's not about what you think, is it? It's what is desirable, and I can guarantee that every single one of them will be purchased by the end of the fair."

"Maybe, I don't kno—" The front door opened with a squeak and closed with a slam.

Scootaloo walked into the center of the den and flopped down in a chair next to the unlit fireplace. She rested her head on the aged fabric, stared at the ceiling, and traced a crack before closing her eyes and sighing.

"Looks like somepony's home early." Maler smirked.

Scootaloo looked out the window. The sun was, once again, nearly settled below the horizon. _Very funny, Dad_. She stifled a rebuttal when she noticed the white unicorn peering over her father's shoulder.

"Rarity? What are you doing here? Sweetie Belle said you were at the spa... boy, she's going to be in for a surprise when she gets to the boutique." Scootaloo chuckled, but arched her eyebrow in suspicion.

Rarity's eyes widened. "Oh dear. She went back to the boutique, didn't she?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Bother..." Rarity sighed before turning to Maler. "Looks like our meeting will have to resume at a later time." With another sigh, Rarity trotted to the door, muttering something about burned fabric the whole way.

"You didn't answer my question!" Scootaloo called out. "What are you doing here?"

"Scootaloo, that is none of your business." Maler stepped in.

"No, no, she has a right to know," Rarity said, lifting a hoof and turning to Scootaloo. "I was in the area, and I remembered that I had yet to discuss the upcoming Arts Faire with your father. He and I are in charge of it as you know."

"So... you didn't go to the spa?" Scootaloo tilted her head in confusion.

"What makes you think that?" Rarity asked, briefly giving Maler a rather nervous glance.

"Well, the spa's like... on the other end of town. Not exactly in this area."

"I..." Rarity tried to reply but only a series of squeaks and murmurs came out. She briefly placed a hoof over a silver locket that was draped around her neck before looking over at Maler, eyes wide and pleading. "I... I, uh... should really be going. Um, I'll be here at around, uh, four tomorrow afternoon to finish the planning, okay?"

Maler nodded. "Sounds perfect."

Rarity smiled and quickly exited the house, forgetting to close the door behind her. Maler walked over to the doorframe, watching Rarity gallop down the path. He gave a sad sigh. "Poor girl," he muttered as he closed the door. With another sigh he turned to Scootaloo and glared. "Go to your room," he said sternly.

Scootaloo sat up, eyes wide. "What?"

"Go. To. Your. Room!"

"Why?"

"Because you were exceptionally rude to our guest. That is _not_ acceptable. Not to mention being rude to such a close family friend. Unacceptable," Maler grunted. He shook his head and looked out the window.

Scootaloo jumped out of her chair and stamped her hoof. "Well she should stop being so secretive! What was she doing over here anyway? She's been here like everyday this week."

"She's been here to help me prepare for the arts show... as she does at _this_ time _every_ year."

Scootaloo shook her head. "No. No, I saw the way she looked at you. There's something else going on here."

"What goes on here is none of your concern, Töchterchen. It's adult business."

"I'm old enough to know!"

Maler chuckled. "You have no idea just how much you _don't_ know," he whispered to himself, barely loud enough for Scootaloo to hear. Sighing, he turned away from the window, locking eyes with Scootaloo. He was no longer glaring, but his face was still set in a stern gaze. "Now, go to your room."

"But—"

"Go!" he thrust his hoof towards the stairs.

Scootaloo grunted. _Tyranny! Tyranny and lies!_ she innerly roared as she stomped up the stairs. When she reached the top-step, she turned and glared at her father, trying to form the most menacing scowl possible. He stared back, eyes narrowed. Scootaloo snorted before trudging to her room and slamming the door.

_*W*_

_Scootaloo awoke to sweltering heat. _

_Sweat poured down her face, dampening her covers and making them impossible to lift. Thunder pounded in her ears, rattling her brain, and she pushed against the weighty covers with all her might. _

_The thunder transformed into a voice._

"_Just remember, squirt. Keep your wings moving and your wits about you." _

"_Rainbow!" she called out, the words echoing around the void. Scootaloo grunted and cursed — bucked and thrashed — but escape seemed to be a million kilometers out of reach. Despite the python-like grip of her sheets, she continued to fight. She was either going to escape or go down swinging._

'_Quitters never win. Winners never give in.'_

_Then the voice filled her mind once more; the faded echo of a ghost. 'Sometimes the best way to fight back is to relinquish yourself. If your wings aren't lifting you, don't flap harder. Let the air grab your wings, not vice versa.' _

_Scootaloo bit her lip, closed her eyes and lightly pushed against the smothering sheets. _

_The covers fell off her, and through the floor._

_Scootaloo hopped out of bed and looked around. A vast plane stretched out around her — dead quiet and ghostly white. It was barren, save for her bed and a small speck in the distance. Out of options, she took a deep breath and scampered off in the direction of the spot. _

_As she drew closer, the speck began to grow and take shape. Soon, it was no longer a blank black dot, but a towering obsidian door. Around the door's body were carved figures. Ponies were the most prominent, but Scootaloo could also make out dragons and griffons, as well as species she didn't recognize. She trembled as the monolith's shadow washed over her. Her raspy breaths fogged the brass door handle as she stared at it with quivering eyes._

"_Push it. Open it," said one voice._

"_Don't do it," said another. _

_Scootaloo asked herself what Rainbow Dash would do in this situation. It took her less than a millisecond to conclude that Rainbow Dash would barge right in without hesitation. It wasn't the smartest idea. Listening to the latter and exploring the area for better, less risky option would be the smart thing to do. _

_But where was the fun in that?_

_An unseen force pushed against Scootaloo's back, throwing her at the door. It flung open before she made contact._

_Scootaloo landed hard on an oak floor. She rolled over onto her belly and gasped for air. Slowly, she raised herself up onto shaky hooves and looked around. She was standing in the hallway outside of her bedroom — or rather an imperfect replica. Everything was exactly as it should, except for one thing._

_The pictures. _

_Her father had removed all the pictures of her mother months ago, yet they seemed to be the only ones covering the wall. Every square inch of the wall contained her mother's warm, grinning face. _

_Scootaloo gulped and ran towards the stairs. She tripped on the fourth step and rolled head over hooves all the way to the ground floor. The world spun around her, and she wasn't sure which way was up, but she recognized the sound. _

_The sound of somepony sobbing. _

_Loud, heartbroken wails seemed to seep through the walls. Scootaloo grinded her teeth as she searched for the source of the ungodly noise. _

_Her father sat on the couch, forelegs wrapped around a quivering white form. Scootaloo stood once more and tiphoofed towards her father. As she got closer, a distinctive dark-purple mane became apparent against his orange coat. It was not as curly as Scootaloo was used to it being, but that was understandable. Scootaloo was dizzied by a sudden burst of deja vu. She couldn't even make out the words being spoken between the two ponies — it was all echos and static — but the pain in the mare's voice was haunting, just as it had been the last time Scootaloo had witnessed it. _

_A board creaked behind Scootaloo and she whirled around. Her mother stood in the doorway, facing away from her, staring out into a black abyss. _

"_Mom?" Scootaloo called out. Her mother didn't respond. She simply unfurled her wings and soared out the door. _

"_Mom!" Scootaloo cried, chasing after her. She jumped through the doorway as well. Unfortunately, Scootaloo's wings, unlike her mother's, lacked the strength needed to stay afloat — let alone keep up. Scootaloo made it only a few meters before her muscles cramped, handing her body back over to gravity._

_She fell, and fell, and fell. The descent lasted minutes... hours. Or was it a matter of days? She wasn't sure; there was no sun in the sky, and the ground wasn't growing any closer, yet she could feel the air scratching at her face and the energy being siphoned out of her body by the passing eternities._

_Escape and defeat were both out of reach. She simply floated, disconnected and desperate._

"_Help me!" she cried into the abyss. The abyss didn't respond. _

_Then she saw it. A crystal-clear prismatic figure soaring out of the shadows. The figure grew closer and more apparent._

"_Dash?" Scootaloo squeaked, her voice a mere hiccup in the void. _

_Rainbow Dash smiled and nodded. Scootaloo sighed in relief. She was safe now. Rainbow Dash was there. Everything was perfect._

_And then a roar pierced the silence. _

_Thunder burst a hole in the blackness, and streaks of lightning shot across the sky, illuminating it like the sun._

_Rainbow Dash shattered like a glass menagerie slung against a wall, bits and pieces being torn away by the darkness._

_And Scootaloo fell..._

_and fell..._

_and fell..._

_*W*_

Scootaloo shot up in bed, mane plastered against her face by the liters of sweat that covered her entire body. She gasped for air, gaze darting around.

Darkness surrounded her.

She yelped and jumped out of her bed, landing awkwardly on the floor. For a minute she lay there, trying to keep her spooked mind at bay. The nightmare had been the same one she'd had the night before, and the night before that, and the night before _that_. Every night it was the same dream, and every time she woke up in the same distraught state.

Scootaloo sat up and looked around, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She noticed that she was staring right at her bedside table — specifically, the picture that rested atop it. She sighed and placed her hoof on top of the frame, debating whether to place it face down or not. It hurt every single time she looked at it, especially right after the nightmare, yet she couldn't help but smile, and feel encouraged.

_There's a chance..._

Scootaloo sighed and looked out her window. It was a beautiful night — a cloudless night.

_Perfect night for an adventure. _

She snuck over to her saddlebags in the corner, moving slowly so she wouldn't wake her father with a creaking floorboard. She opened it carefully, and pulled out any items she deemed 'useless'. These useless items were mostly textbooks and other school-related material, although there were a few comic books and an untouched candy bar that she was very reluctant to toss aside.

By the time she was done, only _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool_ remained. Scootaloo yawned and walked over to her closet. Inside were some of the bare necessities: a sleeping bag, a canteen, a first aid kit and a compass among other things. Through diligent effort and a little bit of fabric-cutting, she was able to stuff the items into her saddlebags. She scooted under the strap and stood, lifting the bags with her. They were extremely heavy. She could barely take two steps without breaking a sweat. However, Scootaloo looked at the labor as a principle. If she wanted to get something, _truly_ wanted to get something, she would have to work her feathers off — labor the brink of death — to earn it. That's what she'd always been told, and that was the belief she held.

Without the help of another pony the saddlebags couldn't be tightened, but Scootaloo didn't mind. As long as they were on her back, they were tight enough. She still needed to grab a few more materials anyway. Then she'd be off.

Right before she opened her door, she reached over and grabbed the picture of Rainbow Dash off her nightstand. She smiled melancholically, and slipped the photo into the side pocket of her saddlebags. Then she grabbed Rainbow's old flight goggles and slipped them over her head. Scootaloo looked at herself in the mirror, smirking at the sight of her new necklace. _Now this is jewelry I can handle._

Once she was certain that the photo was secure, and the that the goggles were not too tight, she opened the door. She looked up and down the hallway, checking to see if the coast was clear. Finding no sign of life, Scootaloo tiphoofed out of her room and towards the stairs.

Maler had fallen asleep at his workbench; an all too common occurrence in the weeks leading up to the Arts Faire. Normally Scootaloo would have woken her father up — sleeping while slumped over a table wasn't doing his back any favors — but waking him up was the one thing she did not want to do at the moment. His coin bag was laid out on the table, probably tossed there carelessly when he had begun to work, and Scootaloo needed the extra bits for supplies. Although the very idea of stealing from her father made her sick to her stomach, desperate times called for desperate measures. If a stain on her soul would erase the pain in her chest, then Scootaloo was more than willing to get her hooves dirty.

Scootaloo carefully leaned over the table, mouth open and ready to grab the bag. She could feel her father's breath on her face as Maler snored heavily, and she held her own, scared to death that a single exhale would cause her mane to brush against his muzzle. Millimeter by millimeter she moved forward, heart racing a little bit faster with each movement. She could taste leather on her tongue and she eased her mouth shut, grasping the pouch between her incisors. Her back popped as she retreated, and she froze, terrified eyes fixed on her father. Maler stirred slightly, snorting obnoxiously, but remained asleep.

Scootaloo waited until she was out of the studio before she breathed.

She opened the bag and slowly plopped the bits on the kitchen table — coin by coin — and counted them. There were twenty-four bits total, so Scootaloo took twelve; a fifty-fifty split seemed fair enough. She dumped the bits in her saddlebags, and placed the rest into the coin pouch. Scootaloo then tiphoofed over to the pantry and pulled out what little food she could fit into her saddlebag. Some berries, three apples, a couple of carrots and a single potato. Any other food she needed she could get from a merchant. The path to the Phoenix Pool may have been off the beaten path, but it couldn't be that desolate. She was bound to come across at least the occasional village or farmstead.

Scootaloo checked her bag, smiling in satisfaction. The basics were all there. _All set_. Scootaloo slung the saddlebags over her back once more. Due to their weight, she would have to leave her scooter behind. It annoyed her — the scooter would make travel ten times easier and quicker — but it was little more than a minor inconvenience. Once she got a good pace going, she was sure she'd have Rainbow Dash and be back in Ponyville by recess on Monday.

She crept out of the kitchen, and across the living room, stalling at the front door. The house was dark and quiet. Scootaloo hated leaving her father like this, but... what she was setting off to do would make it all worthwhile in the end.

_Right?_

"See you later," she whispered in a voice that she could barely hear herself. Blinking away the nervous tears that had welled up, she opened the door and walked out. At the end of the path, she turned back and waved goodbye to her house. She knew that nothing would see the wave, but it made leaving slightly easier to take.

Then, with a loud sigh, she turned and marched away from her home.

*A*

An odd glow illuminated the headstones. It wasn't eerie or frightening, but something about it made Scootaloo's legs shake.

She slowly moved around the weathered granite stones, eyes locked on the ground so she was sure she wasn't stepping on any memorial wreaths or stuffed animals. She felt numb as she passed grave after grave. Death was one of the sad inevitabilities of life, and that made Ponyville Cemetery all the more discomforting. The idea that she could be talking to somepony one minute, then watch them take their last breath the next, disturbed Scootaloo to no end.

The only solace she could find was that very few names were familiar, and most of those ponies had passed due to natural causes after a long, happy life.

This peace was immediately erased by the unweathered, elaborately decorated grave at the top of the highest hill in the graveyard, nestled directly below a large oak tree.

Objects of all sorts had been set out in front of the grave. Flowers, photographs, a silver locket, a ratty copy of_Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone_ and so on. There was even one of Pinkie Pie's famous quadruple-chocolate-chunk cupcakes leaning against the slab — although, due to birds, squirrels and the weather, it barely resembled a cupcake anymore.

Scootaloo sat down in front of the grave and stared directly at the rainbow lightning bolt that had been delicately painted on the front of it. Her breath shook, but she kept her emotions at bay.

_Don't cry. Once you get done with all this, you won't even need to cry._

Still, she couldn't help but whimper as she placed a hoof on an earthy hump in the ground. She sighed and patted the mound.

"Sorry I haven't been here yet, Rainbow." Scootaloo paused, waiting for a response she knew wouldn't come. The only sound on the hill were gusts of wind and crickets chirping amongst the neatly trimmed grass. She swallowed heavily before continuing. "I guess... I guess I have trouble facing the facts sometimes," she chuckled to herself. "Although you probably already knew that..." Scootaloo sniffled and wiped her eyes, a sad smile stretching across her face.

"Things have been a bit crazy lazy. Everypony's been acting really weird. Understandable, of course," Scootaloo mumbled, scratching the back of her head.

_What the hay am I supposed to talk about here? The weather? Everyday life? Her being gone? Ugh, this is hard._ She sighed for what felt like the hundredth, and she kicked at the dirt while searching the sky for answers.

Finding no solution in the stars, Scootaloo picked 'everyday life,' and began to speak, stumbling over her words. "Uh... the weather patrol's been pretty ineffective... I guess that's to be expected. It's hard to replace the... the greatest flier... well, ever. Umm, Rarity and Twilight have been closing up shop earlier and earlier, and Applejack and Fluttershy have been steering clear of town altogether... can't say I blame 'em. Pinkie's still Pinkie though... little bit on the fragile side, but she's probably handling... you being... gone better than anypony else," Scootaloo chuckled. "Heh, the world could be ending and Pinkie Pie would still be trying to get everypony to smile." Scootaloo paused and briefly glanced at the goggles draped around her neck, a heavy lump forming in her throat. "And... and I'm... I... I..."

_I can't do this_.

Scootaloo rose to her hooves, turning from the grave and looking over the valley. She couldn't force herself to talk directly to Rainbow in such a way. To do so would make her look like she was giving in. No, this site was but a motel; a brief stop for Rainbow to rest her weary bones. Scootaloo was sure that, in a few days, the grave would be unneeded — the items strewn before it, pointless — and Rainbow Dash would be back where she belonged. Scootaloo had faith, and that was enough.

That _had_ to be enough.

"I'm going to fix this," Scootaloo whispered, her words lost behind a sudden gust of wind. "I'll get you back, and I'll fix this."

Without turning to look at the grave, Scootaloo began to make her way towards the exit. She'd have plenty of time to talk to Rainbow in the future. Words, apologies and tears could all be spilt at another time, to a far more alive face.

Scootaloo pushed the iron gate open, flinching as the loud squeak pierced her ears. She looked to her left and right, and saw that the path was clear. Although she doubted anyone would be out at such an hour, she felt it was best to best to be sure. Her father could wake at any time and, after going up to her room to apologize or simply check on her, discover that her bed was empty.

Confident that the coast was clear, Scootaloo trudged down the path. At a fork in the road, she reached into her saddlebags and pulled out _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool_. She opened the book to the map, studying the page as best she could in the moonlight.

A route through Canterlot was the quickest option, and also the easiest. Scootaloo looked up at the Ponyville clock tower and noted that the time was eleven forty-five. A train — used mainly to transport ponies who worked the graveyard shift — departed from Ponyville's train station every night at midnight. Smiling at her luck, Scootaloo shoved the book back into her saddlebags, and galloped towards the station.

As she made her way into town, she stole a glance upwards. The skies were clear and the moon was bright.

_Perfect! Absolutely perfect!_ A grin tugged at her lips. The great unknown beckoned her and she was all too eager to comply.

Scootaloo began to lower her gaze, halting when she caught a flash out of the corner of her eye. She stared at the vacant spot in the sky for a few seconds before shaking her head and continuing towards the train station.

Still, the image kept sneaking into her mind.

The image of a grey rainbow streaking across the sky.

*L*

**A/N: **Okay, so... updating at a steady pace isn't my forte. I have an I-Write-Whenever-I-Want-And-Am-a-Lazy-Dick personality. I've never liked this procrastinatory side of me, and thought that I'd be able to avoid it when it comes to fanfiction, but as my updating schedule (or lack thereof) has shown, this side is just as prominent as ever.

I plan on changing this part of me, however. I have scheduled a deadline for chapter updates. A new chapter every two weeks (i.e chapter 5 will be released on July 9th, if not earlier).

So, anyway. Thanks for reading. Hopefully the speedy updates will help me reach a broader audience on .


	5. In the Shadowplay

_Stay awake... stay awake..._

Scootaloo repeated the phrase like a broken record, hoping that mere words would stimulate her drowsy mind. Still, her eyelids kept drooping, and she found herself resorting to punching one foreleg with the other to keep them open.

Though her stop was a good half-hour from Ponyville, Scootaloo refused to fall asleep. Once she entered slumberland, it was nearly impossible to get her out.

She gave a weary chuckle as the memories of a school assembly slipped into her vision. She couldn't remember exactly what it was about — the words "food" and "nutrition" came to mind, but nothing specific. All she was certain of was that it had been boring at all get-out. She'd passed out almost immediately, and when she woke up she found herself in an empty auditorium, moonbeams showering her through the skylight.

_If that's how bad I am during some boring assembly, I'd hate to see how bad I am when I'm actually tired. _

She yawned and stretched her forelegs above her head, the rough fabric of her seat brushing uncomfortably against her back. Although twelve bits could have bought her a seat in one of the more luxurious cars, she had decided against it. The upper-class cars were at the front, along with most of the staff. She was a filly, all by her lonesome, on a midnight train. If that didn't raise suspicion, she didn't know what did. _I didn't come all this way to get turned back by some old unicorn with a monocle and handlebar moustache._

Not to mention she still had supplies to purchase. Wasting bits that could save her life on a more comfortable cushion was absolutely absurd.

The train hit another bump in the track, the sudden tremor nearly knocking her onto the floor. She nervously looked around as soon as she'd regained her balance, a blush heating her face. Even though she knew it wasn't the case, she thought that she heard a mocking chortle. Luckily for Scootaloo, her fellow occupants in the passenger car were seats, windows, and open air. Still, she couldn't help but be a _little _embarrassed by her lack of grace.

Her nerves slowly settled and she lowered herself back into a relaxed position. Occasionally, she'd glance at the lonely seat beside her, a strange feeling building in her chest with each shifting gaze. It was a strange experience. She had only been on the train to Canterlot twice before, and both of those journeys had been filled with laughter, loud conversations, arguments over who got the window seat, and so on. Now, everything felt empty. No sounds, no ponies, nothing. Not wanting the isolation to wear her fatigued mind down any more, Scootaloo reached down into her saddlebags and pulled out _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool. _She set it on her lap, opened it and leaned forward.

… _Daring Do de... delft? Detlt? D... Dcvt? _Under the dim light, the words were starting to bleed together and transform into solid black lines. Scootaloo muttered, reached to her right and shook the lantern that hung on the wall. She could see the fireflies in the glass — breathing, conscious and very much alive — but they refused to light their bulbs. "Come on," she grumbled. "Come on!" Her animosity fell on deaf lightning bug ears. She flung the book back into her saddlebags. "Fine... have it your way..."

Another frustrated sigh escaped her lips, and she slouched in her chair, forelegs crossed over her chest. She was bored out of her mind. She needed to do _something_ to pass the hours. Reading wasn't an option, and there were no ponies around for her to prank — not that she would do that. Pranking would only lead to her getting kicked off the train at the next stop. She slumped in her chair and rubbed her eyes. "So bored," she mumbled.

"_Scootaloo..."_

She shot up and frantically looked around the car. It was as empty as it had been seconds earlier. Scootaloo narrowed her eyes and stared down the back entrance, expecting a horn or wing to poke out from behind a chair, or the echos of hooves sneaking through the gangway to grace her ears.

_I know I heard somebody... _

Scootaloo turned and glared down the front of the car. She was positive that someone had snuck up on her to play some stupid game, but there was nobody to be found. Grunting, Scootaloo lowered herself out of her seat, and slowly walked to the back of the car.

"Show yourself!" she said sternly, glancing down each row of seats. "I hear you! I know you're there!"

She paused just before she reached the last row of seats. There was no way that nobody was there. Like a cat after a mouse, Scootaloo crouched, then pounced. She rounded the corner of the seat with an accusing hoof outstretched, pointed directly at...

Nothing.

"What?" Scootaloo stuttered. She was positive that the culprit would be hiding_ right there_. Perplexed, she turned to the door that connected the train cars. _Maybe they're hiding back here. _She slid the door open and tiphoofed through the gangway — a difficult feat that resulted in her painfully bumping against the sides more than she'd like. Once she reached the other side of the shaking gangway, Scootaloo lifted herself up onto her hind legs, placed her forelegs on the windowsill for support. She peered into the next car.

It was completely empty. No sign of anybody whatsoever.

Grumbling, Scootaloo lowered herself from the window. She slid the door closed and placed her head against it with a heavy _thunk_. _I'm hearing things... _She shook her head and thumped it against the cold door. _I'm losing it... I'm losing it... I—_

"_Scoots..."_

"That does it!" Scootaloo yelled. She whipped around and charged towards the front of the passenger car. "I'm going to mess you up so bad your mother won't even recognize... huh?"

The front of the passenger car was devoid of life, just as the back had been. Frantically, she dropped to her knees, peering underneath the seats. Finding nothing, she jumped to her hooves and glared through the window leading to the next car. Again, it was desolate. She lowered her head and ground her teeth in frustration and fear.

_I'm losing it._..

Scootaloo roared, punching the front wall. "This isn't funny!" She screamed. Her voice echoed through the empty car, but there was no underlying giggling and no sound of hooves shuffling against the floor as they tried to sneak out. She was completely and totally alone.

And something was calling her name.

Scootaloo slowly walked back to her seat, mind and body numbed. _I'm losing my mind, _she repeated over and over again to herself, _I'm losing my mind..._

She lifted herself back into her seat and slumped down with a sigh. _I'm losing my mind. _She shook her head violently. _No, you're just tired. You've slept... what? Five hours in the last week? Just get some shut-eye. You'll be fine. _Nerves slightly calmed by the thought, Scootaloo placed her cheek against the back of the chair, and watched the scenery.

The world outside was pristine. The night sky was cloudless, and the stars and moon were as gorgeous as Scootaloo could ever remember. She had never realized how many stars made up the midnight sky, but now she found herself enthralled by them. She wanted to fly up there and swim amongst them, maybe even stopping to take the occasional nap on a passing comet.

The dream shone as bright as the moon for a split-second before quickly fading.

Her dream, as awesome as it sounded, was a lost cause. While school had never fallen high on her list of priorities, she had paid enough attention to know that ponies don't go to space — even Rainbow Dash had told her that flying into space was impossible, and Scootaloo doubted she knew that meaning of the word 'impossible.'

Even if one could go to space, Scootaloo's dream wouldn't come true. She could barely hover in the air for more than five seconds. To fly thousands of meters into the air was a desire she doubted would ever be fulfilled. For years she had been trying to master flight, and for years it had evaded her like a ghost. She had been getting better and better once Rainbow Dash had started giving her private lessons, but then...

She shook the thought from her mind.

In the distance, lights began to appear against the horizon, far more yellow than the stars that dotted the sky. Scootaloo lifted her window and stuck her head out of it so she could get a better view.

A large collection of lights hovered along the peak of the mountain. Tears sprung to Scootaloo's eyes as the air whipped against her face. Soon, the shadowy outline of a large spire became apparent against the starry backdrop, smaller silhouettes quickly becoming clear nearby. The lights and shadows rose higher and higher, until Scootaloo couldn't crane her neck back far enough to see them.

The train entered a tunnel, and Scootaloo was deafened by a blaring rumble. There was a small blue circle at the end of the tunnel, and Scootaloo watched in awe as it grew to the size of a house. Right before the train exited the tunnel, Scootaloo yelled out. The echo of her voice, while nearly drowned out by the speeding train, caressed her ears and sent a chill down her spine.

The feeling of the night air rustled her mane once more, sweet smelling and as cool as a mountain spring. Above her, the stars sparkled and beckoned her. It was breathtaking. She lifted her forelegs out in front of her, pressed her hooves together, and closed her eyes, a grin tugging at her lips.

Static crackled through the train's intercom, causing Scootaloo to lift her head in shock, and bump it against the window. Rubbing her sore skull, she glared up at the speaker in the roof of the passenger car as muffled words came out.

"Now approaching Canterlot Station."

Scootaloo paid attention to the voice, making sure that it wasn't the one she had heard a few minutes before. The previous voice had been raspy and kind of squeaky. This voice was a deep, droning baritone. The culprit remained at large. She yawned and looked out the window, one question burning in her mind.

_That voice... I know I've heard it somewhere. But where?_

The train's whistle blew out in a shrill tone. Scootaloo watched out the window as the stars, moon and open valley gave way to concrete, dim lantern light and gaudy advertisements. The train slowed to a stop, covering the platform with a thick veil of steam. Scootaloo squinted, but saw nobody walking amongst the vapor. She leaned back and smiled. No ponies meant no wasted minutes, and she liked to think that every second wasted lead to dire consequences.

If somepony were to get onboard — in her mind, she was picturing a hefty heiress to a cardboard box manufacturing plant — she would have to wait at least ten minutes for the hundreds-upon-thousands of suitcases and hat boxes and pet carriers and what have you to be loaded into the baggage car. T_hen _she'dhave to wait ten more minutes for the bulging beneficiary to inch up the steps and into their posh sleeper car.

The train hissed and lurched, flinging Scootaloo out of her reverie. The train was out of the station before she could get her wits about her, and she soon found herself isolated once more. A cacophony of squeaks and rattles carried on — growing louder and more annoying with each passing bump — and Scootaloo bumped her head on the shaking glass more times than preferred.

_The sooner I get off this thing, the better. _

She snorted in annoyance. A fetid stench snaked through her nostrils, and she gagged loudly. Beside her, something chuckled in between ragged coughs. Every joint in Scootaloo's body went stiff, and her blood ran cold. She glanced out the corner of her eye, her neck refusing to turn, and noticed a shadow falling on the chairs next to her.

There were many questions and exclamations that echoed in Scootaloo's brain as she noticed she wasn't alone, but only one was deafening and unanswerable.

_What the hay?_

She was certain that nobody had entered the car in Canterlot, and she hadn't heard either door slide open or shut. _Is this the dude who was messing with me? _Scootaloo asked herself, dredging her mind for clues. _That's not a smell you can mask... I know I would have noticed that! _She weighed the pros and cons of checking and came to the conclusion that a little peek over her shoulder wouldn't hurt. The train bounced once again, and she quickly turned her head, deciding that the bumpy track would be a feasible excuse if the pony behind was not in the mood to be gawked at. _Celestia knows I'd be embarrassed if I stank that bad. _

She prepared herself to come face to face with the incarnation of Tartarus.

She didn't prepare herself enough.

The thing was directly across from her. Its form was indefinable, a solid and shapeless mass of shadows. Its face was equally featureless. Black cheeks curved up and around a mouthless black head. A scentless smoke billowed out the top, forming mane-like wisps that floated around, seemingly immune to gravity.

What stuck out to Scootaloo — what made her heart crash against her ribcage like a jackhammer — were the eyes. They were a sickly shade of yellow. What little light there was in the train car reflected off the figure's eyes with a blinding glow that rivaled the sun itself. Scootaloo saw no pupils, nor any expression or movement. They were not of this world, and they were most certainly not what Scootaloo wanted to stare at.

But she couldn't look away.

She needed to know what it was. Was it a figment? An apparition? Or was it an actual, living and breathing thing? Bizarre as that may be, there was always that possibility that this thing was actually there.

Scootaloo allowed herself to take a breath, and her nostrils were once again filled with that unpleasant aroma; a combination of year-old milk, cigar smoke, rotten eggs and other things she didn't want to think about. She retched and covered her mouth, swallowing the bile before it could introduce itself to the seat. The thing continued to stare, bringing a cold sweat to Scootaloo's brow.

_Just ignore it. Just ignore it. It's not real. If you ignore it, it'll go away._

Her eyes betrayed her and darted over to the thing.

It stared, head completely still despite the incessant rattling of the railcar. And Scootaloo stared back.

_Look away. It's just your imagination! _She roared to herself, trying to lift her hooves so she could grab her head and force it away. However, her forelegs remained on the arms of the chair, and no amount of lecturing and swearing was lifting them.

_Move. Move you fu— _

A loud roar ripped through the railcar. Scootaloo recoiled backwards, forelegs suddenly mobile and shielding her face. Almost as soon as it had happened, the roar dissipated, and Scootaloo lay against the side of the car. The only sound was her breathing — the only feeling, her back slamming against the wall — yet Scootaloo didn't uncover her face. That thing was out there. It was probably looming over her at that very moment, waiting for her to open her eyes so she could watch it gobble her up.

She heard the squealing of the brakes and felt her body start rolling forward as the train slowed, but she refused to move. The train came to a rest with a loud hiss, and Scootaloo could make out an intense glow against the inside of her eyelids. She grunted and lowered her forelegs, keeping her eyes firmly shut. Behind them, a battle raged.

_Don't be such a coward! Suck it up!_

_No. That thing... it—_

_Don't give me that crap! Are you really this weak? _

_No, I—_

_Then open your eyes and take this thing on!_

Scootaloo inched her lids open. The train was already moving again by the time they were fully open. She was facing towards the ceiling, the shaking metal bars that made up the luggage racks garnering her attention as she followed a wad of chewed gum jumping around with each spasm of the car. A voice in the back of her head told her to lift her head; she shoved it away. It came back again. _Stop being such a chicken! _Again, she ignored it.

"_Scootaloo..." _The voice slithered through her ears, down her spine, and pierced her heart. She clamped her eyes shut once more, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball.

"_Gutless..." _

Scootaloo shook her head. "No... I'm... I'm not..."

"_Scaredy cat..." _

"No... I'm not."

"_Weak..."_

"No."

"_Coward..."_

Scootaloo leapt up, nostrils flared and brow furrowed. "Shut up, shut up, shut..."

The passenger car was barren. She was completely alone. _As expected, _she noted. The train lurched suddenly, the familiar shriek of brakes filling the room. She leaned back, breathing still heavy and mind stuck in unease.

_What's wrong with me? _

The intercom crackled once more, though no words were spoken.

Scootaloo's ears perked up. _Wait a second. What stop is this? This is the... the... oh, crap. _She opened her saddlebags and rummaged through the contents, eventually making contact with a hard book cover. With a grunt, she pulled it out — along with half of her supplies — and opened to the map. She had to squint to make out even the largest shape, and the names were little more than foreign squiggles, but she could still see the truth.

Something was wrong.

She pulled out the map she had been using as a bookmark, making sure to dog-ear the page before flipping back to the front, and studying both maps. Crayon lines spread across the fold-out map — a rough estimate of her route. She looked between the two maps, noting similar landmarks and curves.

She'd missed her stop.

She was supposed to have hopped off at the first station after Canterlot. Not the second. Not the twentieth. The_ first_.

"Crap," she muttered, hastily stuffing the book, map and whatever objects now littered the floor into her saddlebags. The whistle blew loud and shrill, and Scootaloo squeaked at an equal pitch when the train started to roll forward. Once she was sure that every last item was in her saddlebags, she flung them over her back — not even bothering to tighten them — and made a break for the exit.

By the time she reached the door, the train was already out of the station and picking up speed. She considered jumping, but deemed that to be too risky. However, staying aboard would only take her farther from her destination.

She glanced down at the ground before her. It seemed soft enough; grass as far as the eye could see, no obvious boulder or tree trunks — though with the thickness of the grass and lack of light it was difficult to tell.

_If I tuck and roll... NO! No, that's crazy. This isn't a comic book. A pony can't just jump off a moving train and walk away. But, I still need to... I've taken spills on my scooter I shouldn't have been able to walk away from, yet I did. _

Scootaloo closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _You don't learn to fly by sitting on your flank all day. You learn to fly by jumping off a cliff. _

"Here goes," she whispered before leaping off the train. As her hooves left the safety of the floor, she felt a tug at her back and a sudden disappearance of weight. She turned her head and saw her saddlebags flying away from her, its contents spilling out over the side of the track.

_Son of a—_

She hit the ground back first and rolled through the grass awkwardly. A mud puddle greeted her when she finally stopped, and she quickly flipped over onto her back. For a while, she lay there, limbs askew and chest rising rapidly as she gasped for air. A comet streaked through the vast, starry sky, but Scootaloo was too busy trying to regain her breath to pay much mind. The train whistle echoed through the valley like the song of a small bird.

Scootaloo forced herself to sit up, though her back provided heavy resistance. She watched the train rapidly speed away, the lantern-lighted back window of the caboose shrinking from a volleyball sized orb to a golfball sized speck in a matter of seconds. That she had survived jumping off such a fast-moving object was a miracle, but her mind was more focused on what hadn't survived her impromptu exit.

She stood, groaning as her back roared in protest, and hobbled in the direction she'd seen her saddlebags fly. "They couldn't have rolled too far," she whispered, scanning the darkened weeds. "Should be right about... _here!" _She slammed her hoof onto a patch of vacant earth. She cantered a few yards to her right, and checked the area, finding nothing. The process repeated for what felt like hours.

"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered to herself as she paced up and down the side of the track. She was about to give up and wait until dawn when she heard the sound of ripping paper.

Scootaloo looked down, lifting her foreleg slowly. On the ground was a familiar sheet of folded parchment. In the pale glow of the moon, she could see the word "Equestria" written on the top. She scooped it up in her mouth and took a few steps forward, coming across a blanket that had inconveniently landed in one of the many puddles that littered the field. Soon, she was coming across a new object with every step, and in a matter of minutes she had gathered all her items, including the saddlebags.

For the most part, they were in good condition. Sure, the blanket was a little soggy, and a there was a small crack on her compass, but those things could be ignored.

The map, however...

She tried to tape it together with bandages, but she couldn't get the signs lined up right. Her hooves weren't exactly the most precise or versatile, and to make matters worse the wind had started to pick up. It wasn't that strong, but it carried just the right amount of intensity to rustle the map and threaten to blow it away. Scootaloo had tried using one of the rocks that lined the railroad track as a paperweight, but most of them were too large and simply got in the way. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out her coin purse. Carefully, she extended her hoof, and began to turn the bag over. In such dim conditions, any bits she spilt would be lost until morning.

_Clickclickclick_

The sound of coin on rock and grass filled the air, igniting a hurricane of undiluted rage within Scootaloo. She bit her lip and counted to ten. It didn't stop her anger, but it cooled her off just enough so that she could scour the ground for her lost bits without being blinded by rancor.

She kicked and pawed and scanned every single speck of dirt, but her bits were nowhere to be found.

She groaned and slammed her foreleg down onto the muddy ground, sending water and gunk flying into her face. A yelp escaped her lips as a few drops of the muck landed directly in her eye. "Great," she mumbled, rubbing her burning eye with her foreleg. "Just _great!" _She ended with a scream, which reverberated through the wide open like a pebble in a cave. Scootaloo had felt alone at many times in her life.

Now she realized that she didn't even know what 'alone' truly felt like.

Canterlot was the farthest from Ponyville she'd ever ventured. While that could be considered a good ways away from Ponyville, at least she had been accompanied by somepony during those visits to Equestria's capital. Not to mention, she had been allowed to stay in a guest room palace once, and in a room at one of Canterlot's many prestigious hotels the other times.

This was different. She was alone and there were no familiar faces or places to be found. Nopony was there to hold her hoof. Though good samaritans willing to provide food and shelter for a filly such as her existed, there were no guarantees. She couldn't walk into any village and expect someone to give her a warm bed and three square meals. No, she was on her own.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

She trotted up to the tracks and looked up them. The train was long gone. The only whistling she could hear were the occasional pitchy tunes of an insomnia-ridden songbird and the static chirping of colonies of crickets. She mumbled and turned her attention down the track. A few hundred yards away was the station. It was as small stations could get. Only a single lantern lit its platform, and even from a distance she could see that there were no benches on the loading platform. The station itself was merely a small eight foot by sixteen foot building. As she got closer, she realized that the station couldn't have been a very popular stop on the route.

The sides of the station were unpainted, and the wooden walls were a model of degradation. There were so many cracks in the weathered boards that it was nearly impossible to tell where they connected. The roof was covered in holes and the windows were dusty. Scootaloo walked up to the building and peered through the window, but all she saw was a reflection of her own face.

The platform itself was in no better shape. There seemed to be more holes than actual floor — pony-sized gaps surrounded by rotted plywood. A sign near the hanging lantern read "Bortom Station" though the "B" was missing most of its lower half. Scootaloo noticed an old newspaper rack near the edge of the platform, but decided to let it be. Considering the state of the Bortom, the ratty newspapers in the rack were probably published before Princess Luna had been banished to the moon.

Scootaloo cautiously made her way behind the station, stepping around countless papers, bottles, tiles, splintered boards with rusted nails sticking out of them, and brown globs that were surrounded by hundreds of buzzing flies. She hoped they weren't what she thought they were, but considering the apocalyptic state of her location, it wouldn't be surprising. After pushing her way through the brush that had accumulated near the back of the station, she came to the edge of a towering forest. Even in the dark she could tell that the trees were much _much_taller than any of the ones in the Everfree Forest. She observed the tree line closely, hoping that she'd catch sight of civilization. There had to be a town somewhere. Rail stations weren't built in the middle of nowhere. Finding no beacon amongst the trees, she turned her attention to her right.

Aside from the station, there were no other buildings in the area. No shadowed rooftops, no lanterns hanging in shop doorways — not even the stumbling silhouette of a drunken pony making their way back from the local tavern. There was the station and nature and nothing else.

She sighed and walked back to the derelict station. A loud yawn escaped her chest and she rubbed her numb face with a hoof. She wanted to keep moving, but she needed to catch some shuteye.

She wobbled up to the station door, and studied its state. The hinges were rusted and the latch hung lazily against the door. She pushed against it lightly, and it swung open. Scootaloo gave a blissful sigh and thanked Luna before tiphoofing into the musky station.

The interior consisted of one room. A table and chair rested in the corner, faced directly towards the door. Beside it was a smaller table, covered with old papers and books. And against the back wall was a sight that made Scootaloo grin from ear-to-ear: A bed!

She threw off her saddlebags and practically bounced over to it, flopping down and sending a plethora of loud squeaks into the air. Scootaloo placed her forelegs behind her head and sighed contentedly. Normally, a foreign bed wouldn't bring forth such relief, but these were not normal times. Reluctantly she rose from the bed, closed the door with a gentle nudge, and pulled her blanket out of her saddlebags. It was still damp and smelled of wet dog, but it would have to suffice for tonight. She fell forward onto the bed, burying her face in the mattress while giggling foalishly.

_Sleep... thank you..._

It didn't take long for the excitement to wear off, however, and she soon found herself lying on her side, mud-covered blanket draped over her curled-up form.

The feelings of loneliness were coming back, pressing down on her chest like a lead weight. She wanted to be able to be lulled to sleep by her father's loud snoring. She wanted to hug her pillow close to her, and fall asleep cradling it like a pet. She wanted to stay awake for hours, sending Marse code messages to Apple Bloom with her firefly lamp.

All she could do now was curl up tighter and hope that the Sandmare was on her side tonight.

She closed her eyes and lay still. She started to hum an old lullaby to herself, one her mother had sung to her. The lyrics escaped her, but she remembered the tune. It was majestic and warm and... _loving._

Scootaloo kept humming despite the pressure building up in her chest. It subsided eventually, along with most feeling, and the cold tail of slumber coiled around her.


	6. Damn Be This Wind

Scootaloo awoke to dust motes dancing in sunbeams. She watched the performance for a few seconds before pulling her blanket over her face and groaning, but the mattress smelled of rotten cheese and her blanket didn't fare much better. Gagging, she surrendered to mother nature, tossed her blanket across the room, and sat up. Her gaze lazily drifted around the room, taking in nothing but the migraine-inducing villain that was dawn. She hunched over and rubbed her face with her hoof.

A half-remembered dream pulsed in her mind, weakly but steadily. She had dreamt about her mother. Her best dreams — and sometimes, her worst — always seemed to be filled with visions of her. Though a memory, Scootaloo couldn't remember when it had happened. It wasn't her most cherished memory of her mother, but it was a milestone.

She and her mother were in Cloud Nine, one of Cloudsdale's finest boutiques. Shapely mannequins donned frilly gowns and large hats. Plastic roses lined the walls. Clothes racks spray-painted gold and tall mirrors covered every inch of the shop's floor. Scootaloo stood on a stool in front of one of these mirror, a purple and gold pegasus wrapping measuring tape around her posterior. Meanwhile, her mother, Flare Chaser, sat back in a nearby chair, skimming over the latest issue of _Misquotation Monthly_, occasionally glancing up at her daughter. Scootaloo trotted in place, looking at her mother with eyes that said, "Please let me leave." However, Flare Chaser simply watched her daughter's increasing boredom with a sly smirk.

"Do I have to wear this?" Scootaloo whined, stamping her hoof much to the ire of the dressmaker.

"You know how your father is," Flare Chaser said. "He always wants his girls to look presentable at every show." A hint of bitterness creeped into her tone near the end, but Scootaloo paid no mind, focusing on the pins she was sure the dressmaker was pricking her with on purpose.

"Yeah, but why does that mean we've gotta wear these dumb things?" Scootaloo rose an ornate-stocking-covered foreleg for emphasis. "Nopony would be caught dead wearing these." The dressmaker grunted bitterly.

"You won't hear me argue," Flare Chaser said with a hearty laugh. "If I had my say, we'd be going to these expos with nothing on at all, but they're important to your father. If we didn't dress up, he wouldn't sell any of his pieces, and then where'd we be?"

"Happier?" Scootaloo asked with a raised eyebrow.

Flare Chaser covered her mouth with a wing and turned away from an increasingly agitated Scootaloo. "What? What's so funny? I'd definitely be happier if I didn't have to dress up like a bimbo every other week."

Flare Chaser squeaked, guffaws threatening to burst forth. Suddenly, she groaned and doubled over, foreleg reaching for her belly and face contorting. Scootaloo hopped down from the stool and hurried over to her mother. She placed a hoof over her back, eyes alighted with concern.

"Mom? What's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked in a wavering voice.

Flare Chaser looked at her daughter and smiled through clenched teeth. "I'm fine," she said softly. "Just a... just a stomach cramp."

"You sure you're fine?"

Though her wincing face told otherwise, Flare Chaser nodded. She walked past Scootaloo, over to the dressmaker. After a brief, whispered conversation, the dressmaker nodded and trotted behind the counter. She dug around, tossing aside various scarves and ties, before emerging with a key in her mouth. Flare Chaser wiped the key off with her wing before grabbing it with her teeth. She gave Scootaloo a gentle nuzzle on the cheek and cantered to the back of the shop, her daughter watching her the whole way. The dressmaker finished fitting Scootaloo without protest.

Scootaloo lifted her head. The memory was quickly lost, replaced with awareness of the pungent aroma. The thick and musty stench wasn't reserved to just her bed — it seemed to seep from the walls. Scootaloo gagged and coughed. Outside, the songbirds were already chirping away, their melodies chipping at her nerves.

The sunlight did provide a few positives. For one, she could finally get a good look at the inside of the station. She took in the room, disgust growing with each darting glance.

The train station was just as forsaken as it had been when she'd fallen asleep — if not more so. The walls weren't painted, giving Scootaloo a lovely view of fractured, rotted walls. In the front corner, right next to the door, she could see the remains of a long abandoned bee her, exposed beams bent and sagged, some hollowed out by termites, some waterlogged and heavy, all covered in mold from end to end. She was lucky it hadn't rained during the night; if it had, there was no doubt that she would have been drenched to the bone come morning. The sunlight reflected off shards of broken glass, which littered the floor alongside candy bar wrappers and rat droppings.

She'd never wanted a bath more in her life.

Her back was still sore from the previous night's fall, and she itched all over — a result of the insect-ridden mattress, no doubt. As she scratched her irritated chest, she noticed a black lump on her foreleg. Assuming that it was just some dried mud, she wiped at it. Despite at least a hundred wipes, the lump remained. She lifted her foreleg close to her face and noticed that the dirt had tiny moving legs. A sense of revulsion chilled her chest. Carefully, she clamped the tick between her incisors and pulled. Luckily for her, it hadn't burrowed in deep yet and came off with little effort. Still, she felt it burst in her mouth. She tasted blood. Moaning, she spit it on the floor and stomped on it for good measure. After she was sure the tick was dead, she opened her saddlebags and pulled out her canteen. She sloshed the lukewarm water in her mouth, then spit it out. There were quite a few red streaks in it. _How much of that is mine? _Scootaloo silently asked.

She clicked the top back on her canteen and tossed it back into her saddlebags, then walked to the window. The debris outnumbered actual floor, making the walk a difficult task. She stumbled around like a fawn taking its first steps. Each movement was followed by the reverberations of sliding glass and hoof-on-concrete. Scootaloo hated the station more with each breath.

It came as no surprise that there was no way to raise the blinds. She grumbled and walked back to the bed, not even bothering to be cautious this time. With a loud _oomph _she threw her saddlebags over her back, remembering to tighten them before she hurried out the door.

The sun had yet to fully clear the mountains, but it was still bright enough to hurt her eyes. She slowed her pace, trying to navigate the world through half-closed lids. She took two steps before tripping over an unseen object and falling flat on her face. Today was clearly not going to be her day.

She lifted her head. Much to her relief, the area around the station was still very much desolate. She tapped her nose and, once she was sure it wasn't broken or bleeding, rose to her hooves. The culprit still lay at the top of the stairs. It was a small felt pouch. Scootaloo cocked her head to the side. _Is that my bit pouch? _She walked up the steps and leaned in close. Sure enough, there was the Wonderbolts insignia messily stitched onto the side. She'd asked for an official Wonderbolts bit pouch, but times had been tough back then. Her father had lacked inspiration, and her mother had turned into a hollow shell. tallon A memorable one, sure, but for all the wrong reasons. Later on, she'd managed to talk her father into buying her a Wonderbolts patch from the local general store, and he'd done a halfway-decent job of stitching it on.

Memories of the previous night came back to her. _Shoot. I still gotta find my bits. _ She sighed and picked up the pouch. To her surprise, she was greeted by jingling. The pouch fell back to floor, the distinctive clamor of bit-on-bit ringing out when it hit. She opened it up, and was blinded by sunlight reflecting off golden coin. The pouch was knocked over once more, and the bits spilled out on the ground. Scootaloo meticulously counted and recounted, her jaw dropping further with each count of ten. Not one was missing.

_What the? How the?_

The door to the station slammed shut, nearly making Scootaloo fall down the steps once more. She trotted over to the door and pushed with all her might. It wouldn't budge. A chill shot down her spine, a cold sweat began to tickle at her disheveled bangs. Something about this station was wrong — very, _very_ _wrong_ — and she wanted nothing more than to be hundreds of miles away.

She gathered her bits back up in the pouch and tossed it into her saddlebags. Then she made a break for the woods. In the light, the outside of the station somehow managed to look even more bleak. The entire structure — from the top of the platform to the chipped stairs — sagged and withered, long forgotten by pony and time.

There was an opening in the tree line. It wasn't wide enough for a stallion or even a bulky mare, but for Scootaloo it was the perfect breadth. She ducked under a low-lying tree branch, then over a fallen log and down a steep embankment. By now, the station was out of sight — though not completely out of mind — and she decided to take a break. She leaned against the trunk of a tree, breathing heavily, and pulled out her canteen. A wave of relief rushed down her throat as she took a quick swig. It seemed colder and fresher. She poured some on her head, hoping it would cool her off. Her throat burned and there was a metallic taste in the back of her throat. Despite being one of the more athletic fillies in her class, running was not her forte. On field day at school, she dominated the obstacle course, but always finished near the back when it came to the races. Of course, this was more than likely because she'd try to sprint the whole thing, forgetting to pace herself, but the back of the pack is still the back of the pack. Even at a sprint she wasn't the quickest. No, running was more Apple Bloom's game.

Scootaloo closed her canteen. She was running low on water. Luckily for her, she was on a trail — though, judging from the overgrowth, not a frequently traveled one. Still, all paths lead _somewhere_. She was sure that she'd come across civilization if she just kept moving forward. Even if she didn't come across a town, there was bound to be a stream nearby. _I see trees and plants. No trees or plants without water, right? _She nodded, silently agreeing, and trudged forward.

* * *

><p><em>… And come to think of it, what kind of special talent does a silver spoon represent anyway? Her name's Silver Spoon, does that mean that her special talent is her name? What the hay are you supposed to do with that talent? "Hi, I'm Silver Spoon. I'm here to tell you my name. That'll be ten bits. Tips are expected." And then there's the coincidence. Did her parents know what her cutie mark was going to be, then named her after that? Hmm... my name's Scootaloo. The thing I'm best at is riding my scooter. Scooter. Scootaloo. Wait a minute...<em>

Scootaloo passed a tree. It was identical to all the others. A long and thin trunk, adorned with thin limbs and faded-green leaves. If there was one thing distinctive about this particular tree, it was that its trunk was damp, but she'd passed at least sixty-two trees with dew-soaked bodies. No, it was just another tree, which she'd reached with just another step, marking yet another minute spent walking. All the while, she conversed with herself in drawn-out internal monologues.

… _I mean, sure, Fluttershy sounds a lot like 'butterfly,' but there's still a difference. A huge difference. If her name was Butterfly, yeah, that would be similar to my case, but it's not. Did my parents know I would be a good scooterer, or did they force me to pick the thing up so they'd look smart? "Yes, that's my daughter, Scootaloo. Notice how she SCOOTs. She's quite a SCOOTerer, my SCOOTaloo." _

She took a brief rest from her internal performance to wipe some sweat off her brow.

When she had first started hiking down the trail, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Now, the sun was high in the sky, its angle just right for shooting beams between the trees and on Scootaloo's back. Her mane was plastered against her face, and she'd long since given up trying to brush it away. The canteen was bone-dry. She kept her ears perked, hoping that the distant sound of rushing water would grace them. Or even the voices of ponies. Fellow travelers would likely have a canteen on them, and she had no doubt that they'd spare her a swig or two. _I'll take a flash flood. Hay, I'll take mud puddle water... just give me something..._

She noticed a fallen tree beside the path, and sat down on it. Her legs felt like they were being prodded with millions of lit matches. Her joints, stiffer than a deer in a dragon's den. She laid back on the rock with a loud grunt. A steady breeze had picked up, though it didn't cool her off that much. Leaves and branches swayed with each gust, causing the light and shadow to dance like a kaleidoscope. Her body began to relax, and her eyelids grew heavy. She kicked and forced herself into an upright position. She still needed to find water and shelter, and she wasn't going to find either by laying on a rock all day.

Begrudgingly, she lowered herself back onto the path and continued forward. Even her wings were beginning to ache, and she hadn't even used them — a fact that only strengthened her disdain.

_Flying would make this so much easier. Rainbow Dash would have made it to the Phoenix Pool and back by now. _Scootaloo sighed and kicked a pine cone along the path like a soccer ball. _This is what I get for being some half-blood... I'm not even a "real" pegasus. What if these wings never work right? I haven't flown yet, have I? Nope. Nope, I'm almost at flight school age and I don't even know how to fly. Yeah, Scoots. Some pegasus you are. If you could fly, maybe Rainbow'd still be alive._

She screamed and kicked the pine cone, sending it careening off the path and down a slope. It bounced off rocks and leaves, echoing through the forest. Soon, it was but a tiny crackling, only audible because there were no other sounds for Scootaloo to perceive.

And then she heard the splash.

At first, she thought it was her mind playing tricks, so she found another pine cone (they littered the forest floor like weeds litter an unkempt garden) and kicked it down the same embankment. It bounced and tumbled and grew softer and softer. Then, after it seemed to have stopped, there was another weak splash.

Scootaloo practically bounced with glee, and bounded down the slope. She lost her balance at several points — bumping hard against a tree at one point and doing a somersault when her hoof got caught in a loose root at another — but she kept going, and the sounds of a creek started to sneak in between the crackling twigs and labored breaths. The path leveled off and Scootaloo skidded to a stop.

She was in a vast, flat area of land. The trees were less tightly packed — sometimes hundreds of meters away from each other — and the air was filled with a gray mist. The sun was nowhere to be seen in the sky.

She began to move forward again. The sound of water steadily running over rock grew louder. Within seconds, she came across a crevice in the earth. It was roughly as wide as she was, and the flow was far stronger than she would have guessed. With a grin that rivaled Pinkie Pie's, she pulled out her canteen and let the icy water flow into it. Once it started to overflow, she lifted it to her lips and gulped it down heartedly. It chilled her burning throat, and she could feel it flow down into her stomach, then out to her sore extremities, cooling everything it touched. She topped it off once more, snapped the lid shut, and placed it in her bags.

Scootaloo looked downstream. Its width grew as it flowed down the hill. The water rushed over stones at an ever-increasing rate. Her smile grew wider.

_This is bound to lead somewhere. _

The descent down the slope was a tricky one. The leaves on the bank were soaked and the ground sloshed and slid with each step. Both forelegs were covered in layers of mud by the time she reached the bottom of the hill. The rest of her body didn't fare much better. She'd slipped nearly a dozen times, and now donned a patchy mask of muck. It smelled like a dog after a rainstorm.

As the ground leveled off, she noticed a sound. Distant at first, but growing with each quickening step. A powerful thunder-like noise, constant and booming. Scootaloo began to run again. With each step it became more deafening. Her excited giggles were drowned out and erased by the rapids. She could barely hear herself think.

_Rapids! River! Society!_

Though there was still a chance — Scootaloo guessed below one percent — that this river would lead her nowhere, she chose to get her hopes up. If there was civilization in the forest, be it a bustling village or a single hut with a clinically insane inbred fisherpony as its sole occupant, it would be along the riverside. The town she was supposed to get off at the night before had been located right beside the river, if she remembered correctly.

The trees and ground ended abruptly. Scootaloo barely had time to stop. The tips of her front hooves hung over open air. Below her, a river ran from horizon to horizon, flowing like a stampede. Boulders the size of houses jutted out of the foamy rapids, and limbs longer than ten ponies were carried downstream as if they were feathers.

It was frightening. It was beautiful.

She leaned out over the cliff face. The river stretched on forever, trees flanking it through every turn and dip. Occasionally, the trees would stop — the river briefly turning into a cascade — but would start right back up again when the river leveled off. She saw no boats or docks or silhouettes in either direction. Her hopes dwindled.

Then she saw it.

In the distance, hovering over the sea of trees, was a long trail of gray smoke.

Scootaloo couldn't sustain her composure, and erupted into joyful, borderline maniacal, giggles. She fell back onto her haunches, the giggles mutating into intense belly laughs. _Why am I laughing? _she asked herself. No answer came, only more laughter. She didn't bother asking again.

Eventually, the joy subsided, replaced by a growing tinge of worry. She looked over the edge of the cliff once more. The river was at least thirty meters below her. Flying down would probably be the safest way down, but that wasn't an option. She scanned the face for vines or paths. The ledge she was standing on stretched out at a level height for quite a ways, before suddenly ending. No gradual decline to river-level. Just a few kilometers of land and then _Bam! _A wicked drop. It seemed that she'd forced herself into yet another pickle. _I bet that path I was on led straight down there. Too bad you decided to leave it and get yourself lost! _Even her mind was turning against her.

And once again, her eyes seemed to fall upon the right place at the right time.

About fifty or so yards away, and five meters down the cliff wall, was a tiny ledge. It was barely wide enough to be noticed, but it still appeared to be wide enough for a small filly like Scootaloo to balance on. From a distance it was difficult to tell if the ledge was sturdy or not. However, Scootaloo paid stability no mind. What she focused on was the downward angle of the lip, then the sudden curve. The jutting rock angled down once more, then curved, then repeated the cycle all the way to the river. It was a path, a way down. _A way out of this hellhole, _Scootaloo thought with a smile.

_And straight into another, _her mind retorted. She tried to ignore it, but the thought reverberated in her mind as she climbed down the paper-thin path at a meter-per-minute pace.

For a minute or two, she thought about what would happen if she were to lose her balance. She would probably die on impact, skull cracked open on the rocks and bones twisted by the rushing current. If she survived the fall, she'd be too injured to stay afloat, and drown before her concussed mind could perceive what was happening. Her body would wash ashore tens of hundreds of kilometers downstream, in the middle of nowhere. The vultures would have their way with her before a search party could arrive — if a search party even ventured into this region. They'd find nothing but bones. It would be an anticlimactic death, but a real one. As she had been reminded so many times in the past, life had a way of ceasing with a whimper.

Halfway down the side of the cliff, the path widened a couple of meters. Scootaloo seized the opportunity to catch her breath, flopping onto her haunches with a heavy grunt. The wind was picking up; even her stuffed saddlebags were swaying in it. There was a hole in the rock face. Scootaloo guessed that an animal had used it as a burrow at some point in time. It was in a good location — near water and food supplies, yet out of reach of most predators.

She looked up and noticed that the sun was near its apex. "Have I been walking that long?" she said to nobody in particular.

A growl emitted from the hole in the rock face.

Scootaloo shot to her hooves, nearly toppling over the cliff then and there. Heart racing, she hesitantly leaned forward, peering into the hole. The inside of the cavity was pitch black. Even the noon sun failed to illuminate past the first few inches. It growled again. Scootaloo felt its breath against her face, warm and putrid. She looked to her side, debating whether she should make a run for it.

_Attacked by some creature or a long fall on to sharp rocks. Pick your demise. _

She looked back into the hole. Her body stiffened.

The creature was partially visible. The tip of its long rough snout was inches from her face, sunlight reflecting off its razor-sharp fangs. Though it was difficult to tell, Scootaloo could have sworn she saw bits of flesh hanging from its molars.

None of that was what left her paralyzed with fear.

What made her blood run cold was the eyes. They were narrow, piercing, and strikingly cordovan.

She didn't think twice. Her legs moved on instinct. Run, turn, run, turn, run, turn; the process repeated itself for what felt like hours. The floor didn't appear to be getting any closer, and Scootaloo wasn't feeling any safer. She heard what sounded like claws scraping on rock behind her, as well as the all too familiar panting of a ravenous beast. _Not like this, _her mind whimpered. _Not like this. _

Run, turn, run, turn, run, tur— _Stop!_

Scootaloo looked down, then across. There _would _be a uncrossable gap in the middle of the path. She looked behind her. Pebbles showered down from above, tell-tale signs that she was utterly screwed. Again, she had to decide: Fall to her death or get eaten alive. She glanced at her wings; they twitched nervously. The cogs in her mind turned so fast she thought they'd melt. She looked across the gap and narrowed her gaze.

_I can do this._

Behind her, the beast growled. Below her, the forest waited with an open mouth. She took a deep breath and flapped her wings.

_I can do this. _

She leapt forward, eyes closing as soon as her hooves left the ground. She flapped her wings slowly and with confidence. _Focus. Don't push the air, let it push you. _

_I can do this. _

Her progress halted.

_I can do this. _

She fluttered desperately.

_I can do this. _

She craned her neck. The other side was barely visible.

_I can do this. _

The leaves of the trees had three points on each side. They were sharp and painfully scraped against her face.

_I can do this._

A limb met her nose and everything went dark.

* * *

><p>"<em>No. This isn't it."<em>

"_If not now, then when?" _

"_Why are you so eager?"_

"_Because I—"_

"_Exactly. Because YOU. It's always been about YOU, hasn't it? Well, guess what, sister? It ain't about you."_

"_And it's not about you, either." _

"_Never said it was." _

"_I still think now—"_

"_Just shut it. It'll come when it comes."_

* * *

><p>The world came back in waves. First came the awareness that she had, somehow, survived the fall. Then she became marginally aware of her surroundings; grass rubbing against her hooves, rain drenching her coat, the rolling thunder, and so on. And then the pain rushed in like a tidal wave.<p>

Her nose felt like a hundred railroad spikes had been driven into it by a blind crone. Pains, dull and sharp, all equally excruciating. A coppery taste filled her mouth. She spit and felt the thick liquid fall back onto her face, mixing with the grime and rain. She began to roll over onto her side, but her bruised ribs screamed in protest. All the while, the rain fell against her — the tiny drops like red-hot needles.

She was alive. At that moment, she didn't consider that to be a blessing.

Scootaloo's hooves slid around on the muddy earth as she tried to lift herself to her hooves. Each movement felt like a hundred fire ant bites, but she'd rather be in pain and moving than laying there and withering away. _No pain, no gain, right? _She began to chuckle at her quip, but her tender ribs quickly ceased the laughter. _Hoo boy. That was a big one. How'd I survive that? _She rubbed her face with her forehooves. _What the hay was that thing anyway? _She listened closely for the distinctive sounds of an approaching beast. All she heard were her own shallow breaths and the pitter-patter of rain. She stood upright, legs still wobbling like a deer taking its first steps, and tried to regain her bearings.

Sight was finally returning to her. She noticed two things. The first was that she had been unconscious for quite awhile. She had seen many thunderstorms in her life. From the five-second-long whimpers to the massive, hour-long monsters. She had seen enough to know that even in the largest, most ferocious storms, the sun was still evident. The clouds would block out most of the light, but you could still tell that it was the middle of the afternoon. The world around her now was pure darkness, save for the occasional illumination via lightning. No, it was well-past dusk. Not to mention, the skies had been clear when she'd tried to jump the gap. She guessed that she'd blacked out for at least six hours, give or take a few. _That can't be a good thing. _

The second was that she was nowhere near where she had fallen. She had hit a tree branch on the way down, yet there were only a few trees in the area she was in now. Far less than the sea of firs that she'd descended into. Also, she was only a couple of meters from the river — when she'd fallen, she had been _hundreds _of meters away. Even more perplexing: the bank of the river was to her _right _even though she'd been on the leftside of the river. And to top it all off, there were no cliffs within a kilometer of her position.

Something was wrong. _Very_ wrong.

She looked up and down the river, finding nothing but water and trees, then behind her. She instantly regretted looking behind her.

A pair of eyes glowed in amongst the brush. They watched her, unblinking.

"Hello?" she said.

They continued to stare at her. Scootaloo noticed they were a rose. She began to back away, never once breaking contact. _Just keep your eyes on it. If you keep looking at it, you'll be fine. _

A growl emitted from the darkness. Scootaloo's heart raced. She heard the sound of snapping twigs. Closer and closer. The eyes grew until they were the size of dinner plates. They were mad. Ravenous. Hot, rank breath tickled her nostrils. Saliva dropped on her hoof — its consistency somehow denser than the rain or her blood. It burned slightly, though not as much as her sinuses. She began to quiver. All she could see were the eyes.

A bell rang out to Scootaloo's left. She turned her head. The bell rang out again. She turned back. The creature had vanished. The distant sounds of snapping twigs and rustling bushes briefly graced her ears, but were drowned out by yet another chiming of the bell.

Once her breathing returned to a steady pace, Scootaloo trotted back to the bank, eyes set downriver. The bell continued to ring — _four, five, six. _She leaned over the water and washed her face off. The water burned, and it was probably not the most sanitary way to clean her wounds, but it got the blood off. The bell rung on — _seven, eight, nine. _

Having not other options, Scootaloo began to walk towards the sound of the tolling. _Ten, eleven, twelve. _The bell ceased. _Twelve. _It was midnight, and she was in the middle of the forest with no shelter and no idea where she was. Scootaloo had decided long before now that someone on a higher plane of existence hated her guts. The recent string of misfortune only solidified those beliefs.

The walk was an arduous one. Each step hurt more than the last. She hadn't made it a single kilometer before she had to stop and take a break. By the time she could move her legs enough to proceed, the unseen bell had already tolled once.

The river curved to the left, and Scootaloo rounded the bend to find herself staring directly at a fishing village.

Compared to Ponyville, the village was a speck of dust. Scootaloo counted five building — though there were probably others that were obscured by the night or other buildings — and only one of them was taller than a single story. Three lit lanterns showed that, unlike the station she had spent the previous night at, this village expected visitors to pass through — or at least living beings. Two were on opposite ends of a bridge over the river, and one was above the front door of the village's one two-story building. It illuminated an old wooden sign. From a distance, she couldn't read the words written on it, but the image messily painted on it spoke volumes. And what divine volumes they were.

A tankard.

She could barely suppress her squeaks of delight as she scurried towards the beacon. Luck hadn't been on her side the whole day, and she knew that getting her hopes up would only lead to more disappointment or near-life-threatening injuries, but she couldn't help but believe that her luck would turn eventually. Her bad luck extended back past the previous day, past the previous weeks, all the way back to six months before. Statistically, her luck had to change eventually.

Or at least that's what she hoped.

* * *

><p>Saddlesore Sal's smelled of ale, cigars and rotten vegetables. A thick haze of smoke enshrouded everything and everybody. Voices seeped from the miasma. Loud, slurred ramblings, spoken almost exclusively in four-letter words and in voices rougher than sandpaper. Scootaloo tried her best to ignore the diatribes and flying bottles.<p>

She strolled up to the bar and hopped up on one of the stools. _This is what you do, right? _she asked herself, though she knew there was no known answer to that question. She was still in middle school. By law, she shouldn't have even been allowed in the front door, but nobody had stopped her. Judging by how shoddy the bar was she doubted anybody cared whether she was of age.

Despite the rowdy atmosphere, the bar itself was nearly deserted. Most of the patrons were gathered around the many game tables cluttered together in the corner — the center of attention an intense game of Liar's Dice between an eyepatch-wearing unicorn and a large zebra. The only other figure at the bar wasn't a pony — wasn't even equine at all. Rather, he was a griffon, and a large one at that. He wore a bandana around his neck, and the fur around his beak was just black, offsetting his ghost-white coat and feathers. He stared straight ahead, and Scootaloo stared at him.

She'd never seen a griffon before. She'd heard about them, sure, but before this moment they were but drawings in her head. Now, she could see the sharp talons and oddly-shaped legs. She could feel the power radiating off him. Even in a madhouse such as Saddlesore Sal's, this griffon stuck out. Such strength. Such nobility. Such—

"The fuck you starin' at?"

Scootaloo didn't even know how to respond. So, she turned away from the griffon, focusing instead on a month-old newspaper clipping that had been tacked up on a board behind the bar. The article was titled, "Princess Luna's New Ride!" The headline was written in garish letters. Below it was a picture of the Princess herself, smiling and waving as she rode through Canterlot in her new chariot. Scootaloo scoffed at the usage of "new." The chariot looked exactly like the one she'd seen Luna riding in on Nightmare Night many moons ago. The only difference was that the paint looked slightly blacker than it had back then.

"That's what I thought," the griffon said. Scootaloo ignored him and continued to read the newspaper. Apparently, some hoofball team from Manehatten had lost to another team from Baltimare, and it was a big deal. Or, at least that's how the paper was making it out to be. Bolded letters printed above grainy photographs of furious looking fans, ponies in full riot gear, and burning carts. Yes, it did seem like it was big deal, but Scootaloo didn't know for sure. She'd never heard of the incident. Of course, she didn't pay much attention to hoofball either — too much standing around, not enough action.

"Hey, Terry, I'm back. I tell ya— Oh, come on, you've gotta be kiddin' me! Another one? Terry, who's the kid?"

The griffon looked up with glassy eyes "Do I look like I know?" he said before gulping down his shot of scotch. He pointed a wing at the glass.

Scootaloo blinked her eyes back into focus. Standing just to the side of the clipping was a donkey. His black mane was long and unkempt, falling over his back and nearly touching the floor. In his mouth was a cigarette, smoked to the butt. He pulled a bottle of scotch from a shelf behind him and poured half of it into Terry's glass. The liquid poured over the lip, through the cracks in the top, and all over the griffon's tallon. Terry glared, but the donkey's attention had already transitioned to Scootaloo. He leaned forward on the bar, stared at her through yellow eyes, and scowled.

"What are ya doin' here?" His teeth were as yellow as his eyes. The stench was unbearable. "Ya know ya ain't s'posed to be here, don't ya?"

"I was. I, uh. Um." The words got caught in Scootaloo's throat, held back by the smoke. She coughed and continued. "I was just... uh, wondering. Do you have rooms?" The barkeep raised an eyebrow. "Like, to spend the night in, I mean?"

"Normally don't deal with y'all young folk 'round here," he said, eyes drifting to the game tables. Well, one eye. His other stayed in place, its emotionless pupil focused on nothing. "Ya got the bit?"

"How much?" she asked.

"How much ya got?"

Scootaloo reached into her saddlebags and pulled out her pouch. She counted the bits several times before looking up. "Five."

The barkeep put out his cigarette in an ashtray and pulled out another. "Normally charge two." He paused and lit up. "But, if we got caught housin' y'all young folk 'round here, we'd get shutdown faster than ya can say 'whiskey.' Not to mention we're packed. Tighter than a Magic Schooler 'round here, so that'll cost ya extra." He stopped yet again, chuckling at a joke Scootaloo must have missed. The laughter ceased almost as soon as it had began and his chest lurched. With lightning-fast reflexes, he pulled out a handkerchief and put it to his mouth right as a series of harsh coughs burst forth. The fit lasted for nearly a minute, and Scootaloo began to wonder if she'd call for help. The donkey noticed this and lifted a hoof, calming her slightly. He lowered the handkerchief, wiped off his lips, and began to talk again.

"Sorry 'bout that. What were we talkin' 'bout?"

"A room for the night."

"Ah, yes... as I was saying." He took a drag from the miraculously still lit cigarette and blew out a near-perfect ring of smoke. It drifted directly into Terry's face. Terry glowered and extended his middle talon. The donkey laughed. "Anyway. Normally, I'd charge ten or fifteen bits for a filly like you — fines for housin' y'all minors are insane — but I'm in a good mood tonight, so I'm gonna let ya off with five. Deal?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, fine." Scootaloo didn't want to look at him. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. She tossed five bits on the counter. The ants were on them before they stopped bouncing. "I'm beat," she continued, stretching and yawning for emphasis. "Where's my room?"

The donkey bent down and rummaged around underneath the bar. "Room seventeen. I'll take ya to it."

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. "I don't need an escort."

The donkey looked up, a dead serious look on his face. "Believe me, ya do."

Scootaloo sighed. It was clear she wasn't going to win this argument.

The donkey looked over at Terry. "Hey, hold the fort for a few, will ya? And don't drink my stock either."

"Fuck off, Sal"

Sal chuckled. "Never change, Terry. Never change." Terry gave him a look of utter contempt, to which he responded with another gravely chuckle. Then he turned back to Scootaloo. "Ya look like crap, kid. How 'bout I go 'head and show ya to your room?"

She shrugged and hopped down from the chair as Sal walked out from behind the bar. With his hooves on the ground, Scootaloo was surprised at how short he way. As they walked past the bar, towards a narrow staircase, Scootaloo noticed three steps leading to a raised platform. _Probably to make him feel tall. _Scootaloo thought with an audible snort.

"What brings ya out here, anyway?"

Scootaloo straightened up. How long had he been talking? "Huh?"

Sal stopped and pointed at Scootaloo's chest for a single second before turning and continuing forward. "Them goggles. They got the Ponyville flag on 'em. That's not exactly nearby."

"Wha?" Scootaloo nearly tripped over her forehooves. "How do you know what Ponyville's flag is? Are you from there?"

He gave a hearty laugh. "No, no. Oh, Celestia, no. Never been east of Hogwater." Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. "That's a farm a few clicks down the trail that runs through town. Not far from here, in other words. Jed, the stallion who owns that place is a mighty cooky ol' pony. Best horseshoe player I ever met, though. I remember... oh, it musta been ten years ago. Me and ol' Jed were playin' horseshoes, and decided to make this bet, right? And I... I'm gettin' off topic aren't I? What were we talkin' 'bout?"

"Uh... Ponyville."

"Ah, yes, of course! Ponyville. Yeah, I have a cousin who lives there," he said, cutting her off. "Name's Matilda. Ya know her?"

Scootaloo shrugged. "I've heard that name before. Might have even seen her a time or two, but... no, I wouldn't say I _know _her."

"Good girl, Matilda," he said. "Don't know why she decided to waste away in Ponyville. Nothin' against Ponyville, though. Just... never mind. Different story for a different time."

"I'm looking for somepony," Scootaloo said absentmindedly.

"What a coincidence, your roomies are too."

"Roomies?"

"Yeah. Don't ya remember nothin', featherbrain," Sal said with a throaty guffaw. "We're packed to the ceilin' here. Only got three rooms, so you're gonna have to share a room. Don't worry, I'm puttin' ya in a room with two fillies your age."

Scootaloo stopped. "Three rooms? But you said my room was room seventeen."

"It is. I don't believe in number order and all that. Just give 'em the number I want— Ah! Here we are."

The door was as worn as Scootaloo expected. The number "seventeen" lazily hung near the top, written down in ink on scotch tape.

"If ya need anything just holler,' Sal said, already near the end of the hall. "Would love to stay and chat, but Terry's probably already tryin' to start a fight." And with that, he disappeared around the corner, leaving Scootaloo to stare at the door.

_Alright, Scootaloo, take a guess. What's behind door number seventeen. Ghosts? Gallons of blood? That... thing from earlier? Or is it something worse? 'Cause you know it's gonna be something worse._

She took a deep breath and placed the key in the lock, and that was as far as she got. The door creaked open, nearly smacking her tender nose. Eyes locked on eyes, and two jaws fell. Silence filled the air, threatening to smother the two petrified ponies. Scootaloo was the first to speak, her words nigh incomprehensible under the tirade of squeaks.

"Apple Bloom?


	7. Reminiscence

Scootaloo held her hooves to her face and let the water trickle down her forehead and onto her sore nose. At some point in the past hour, it had sprung another leak — though the crimson flow was now more of a dribble. She listened to the water drip into the worn bucket, the sound echoing around the outhouse as if it were a cave. In spite of the smell, there was something calming about the small shack in the backyard of Sal's inn. Maybe it was the sound of the water, or the sense of isolation, or the simple fact that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle couldn't pester her here.

_Yeah, probably that last one._

Still, her friends were never far from her thoughts. She dried her face off on an oak leaf as she repeated the same question she had been asking herself for the past half-hour.

_How did they know I'd be here? Sure, I told them... well, pretty much everything, but I didn't tell them where I would be staying. I didn't even know where I was going to be staying._

She had already asked Apple Bloom how they had known where she would be, but hadn't received a straight answer. Mostly, she just yelled "What they hay were you thinkin'?" over and over and over again.

Sweetie Belle hadn't been much help either, wavering between hugs and happiness, and slaps and scolding.

_Slapped me right in the schnoz, too_. Scootaloo tenderly rubbed her nose, wincing at the memory. _That could explain the bleeding_. She groaned, tossed the leaf on the floor, and headed back to the hotel. No amount of solace could mask the outhouse's rancid stench.

The inn had closed up not long after Sal had shown Scootaloo to her room. Even from outside, she could hear the drunken protests as Sal had to literally kick pony after intoxicated pony into the street. She tried her best to ignore the slurred catcalls of a unicorn mare who had stumbled around the corner and into a pile of trash bags. Scootaloo veered around a patch of shattered glass and opened the inn's side entrance, kicking a bag of flour she had been using to prop the door open away. The door slammed shut.

She snuck through a barren kitchen — though it was more of a pantry than a kitchen — and into the equally empty main room of the inn. The lanterns had been extinguished, but a few lit candles had been placed on the bar — probably for late-night-bathroom-breakers like herself.

While the little light made walking straight into a pillar impossible, it didn't make walking to her room any easier. Half-empty bottles, peanut shells, and broken pool cues littered the floor. Every lowering of her hoof tightened her chest. To her, it wasn't a question of if she was going to step on something harmful and painful, but a question of _when_. Her hoof landed in something sticky and she halted. She shuddered and, without looking at the gunk, wiped it off on a tablecloth (a surprising feature for such a bare-bones joint).

_Do they even clean this place?_

Aside from a mouse scurrying behind a planter that held a withered shrub when she crested the steps, the rest of the walk back to her room proved uneventful. The second-story halls were long, narrow, and dull. Scootaloo wished for pictures lining the walls — flowers, waterfalls, or portraits with moving eyes; she wasn't going to be picky — or trophies of some sort or at even some loud drunk to stumble down the corridor making a ruckus. That would at least distract her mind from her room, the two fillies within it, and the inevitable barrage of questions, pleas and other forms of verbal assault.

As she neared her room, bits of a hushed conversation reached her ear. Though a garbled mess, the up-front tone in Apple Bloom's voice, combined with defensive and weary tone of Sweetie Belle's, told Scootaloo that the two were locked in an intense debate. She tried to sneak up to the door so she could hear the conversation better, but her hoof fell on a squeaky board. Apple Bloom turned, her face fully-visible in the large crack between the door and doorframe, and glowered. Scootaloo sighed, rolled her eyes, and entered.

"Hiya, Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle said, none of her usual pep lost despite the hour of night. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Scootaloo responded. "Nose is still a bit sore, but I think I'll survive." She half-smiled as she trotted over to a small couch against the back wall and collapsed upon it. The room had one single-bed, which Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had already claimed — a tight fit, but they somehow managed.

Because the bed was filled past capacity, Scootaloo had to resort to yet another rat-chewed resting place. Still, it felt safer than the previous night's shelter. She turned over, facing away from her two friends, and tried to fall asleep.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

"So, you gonna talk ta us, or just keep on ignorin' us?" Apple Bloom's accented voice was like cat claws on a chalkboard.

"I'm not ignoring you," Scootaloo said, curling up a little tighter. The bedroom was very nippy, much like Apple Bloom's attitude.

"Then why aren't ya tal—"

"'Cause I'm tired, okay? Look, I'll... I'll talk in the morning. Tell you anything you want. But, please, let me go to sleep."

"Fine."

She could feel Apple Bloom's glare boring into her back. The heavy weight of anger did not make for a good blanket.

Scootaloo's eyes shot open. _A blanket! That's what I need._

She still had one in her saddlebags, but considering the amount of bugs that had burrowed into it by now, not to mention the ungodly stench, she chose against using it a second straight night. She rolled over, risking eye contact with Apple Bloom.

"Hey. Any of you got an extra blanket? I'm freezing." Scootaloo made sure her voice shook slightly.

As if on cue, a breeze blew through the room, causing Sweetie Belle to shiver and wrap herself up tighter in the covers. Apple Bloom remained still, though something in her eyes told Scootaloo that her sentiments reflected Sweetie Belle's.

"Yeah, there's a spare in the closet." Apple Bloom nodded over her shoulder.

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow. "We've got a closet? No bathroom, but we've got a closet."

"Yeah."

Scootaloo stared at the door for a few moments, unsure exactly why, before standing and crossing to it. The door was already cracked. She nudged it open.

It was a small closet — no wider than a book and not much taller. Scootaloo noticed that two saddlebags lay on the floor. _Guess they weren't expecting to find me so soon. How did they find me anyway?_

The blanket rested on the top-shelf. Scootaloo pulled it down, sending a years-worth of dust into the air in the form of a thick cloud. The three fillies coughed. Scootaloo attempted to gag out an apology as she walked back to the couch, head lowered and eyes watering. However, all that came out were more coughs.

She flopped back down on the couch, curled into a ball, and wrapped the blanket around her. The chill still stung, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. It would fade with time. For a second, she felt like she was floating through the skies, but it quickly ceased as the fingers of slumber curled around her and squeezed tight.

* * *

><p><em>Ashen snow covered the graveyard of splintered trunks. Scootaloo tripped over the burnt-black bones as she made her way towards wherever.<em>

"_Where am I going?" she asked aloud. The words echoed through the trees._

"_Where am I going?" Scootaloo didn't know if she had called again, or if it was simply the same call reverberating in her mind._

_She wasn't even sure where she was, but that didn't faze her for some reason. Neither did the stricken world around her. She simply kept moving, tripping over burnt-black limbs and ghost-white rocks and bone after bone after bone. _

_And all the while it was peaceful. It left a bad taste in her mouth and a chasm in her gut, yet she didn't feel bad. _

_She inhaled deeply. Her lungs didn't feel any fuller. _

_A shadow crept into her peripheral vision. She tried her best to ignore it. If she ignored it, it wouldn't attack. Creatures in her dreams thrived off attention. They would only pounce if she looked in their direction — would only sink their fangs into her if her eyes shone with pure terror when they made contact. No, she wasn't going to look. That was an invitation. _

"_Hmm... I'm dreaming," she announced to open air. The revelation failed to spark anything. She didn't even feel the desire to wake. This world was horrific, but at least that was all it was. It was predictable. In here she didn't have to worry about somebody lifting her spirits only to stab her in the back. Here, the desolation was static. She liked that. _

_The shadow still lingered in the corner of her eye. She wondered what would happen if she dared it first. She had only looked at it two times before, and both of those had been accidental. Both of those times, the creature had lunged at her, had bitten her with the ferocity of a ravenous hound, but it had let up. It had never finished the job. _

_An old saying came to mind. "If you die in your dreams, you die in real life." She wondered how true that statement was. _

_She turned her head and stared directly at the thing. _

_It hung from a tree, its smoky tentacle wrapped around the lone branch. At the base of the tentacle were those eyes. Those yellow, spine-chilling eyes. They were wide and emotionless. Two perfectly symmetrical orbs. The rest of its body — if it could be called a body — stretched out like normal: hundreds of finger-like tentacles jutting out for miles; slender torso, fading into wisps near the bottom. Yes, for the most part it was just like it always was._

_For the most part. _

_At first, she thought it was just an optical illusion, but even after blinking a hundred times, they remained. Two, smaller yellow eyes, right where the creature's stomach would be._

_Scootaloo gasped. "No," she whispered. "No." _

_And then the sound poured forth. The sound of crying._

_Scootaloo turned away. _

_And came face-to-face with a ferocious beast. _

_A roar pierced the air, drowning out her cries._

* * *

><p>Scootaloo woke up screaming, and shot up in bed. Almost immediately, she was seized in a tight grip. She thrashed and wailed and swung her forelegs aimlessly, still not entirely sure of where she was, but her protests only made the grip tighten.<p>

"Scootaloo! It's all right! You're fine. You're fine."

Fatigue began to set in, and Scootaloo stopped throwing punches. Soon, she stopped moving altogether, and simply lay there, panting, her gaze darting around the room. It was still the dead of night; she couldn't have been asleep much more than an hour. Two hours, tops. Whoever was holding her didn't slacken their grip.

"It's okay. It was just a dream." Scootaloo recognized the voice as belonging to Sweetie Belle — the voice cracks gave her away. When she squinted, Scootaloo could make out her curly purple locks reflecting the moonlight.

This sight calmed Scootaloo, and her breathing slowed until it was but small, shaky gasps.

"Shh, it's all right," Sweetie Belle whispered, leaning in closer. Her breath tickled Scootaloo's ear. Something about her tone made Scootaloo actually believe those words.

Across the room, the mattress squeaked. "She all right?" Apple Bloom called out. Her voice was low and weak; Scootaloo wasn't even sure she had spoken until Sweetie Belle replied.

"Yeah," she said. "Just having a bad dream."

"Oh... she's better now, right?"

Sweetie Belle sighed. After a long pause, she replied. "Yeah."

"That's good." With that, Apple Bloom rolled over, covers rustling as she moved into a comfortable position. Before long, loud snores filled the air. Sweetie Belle chuckled. Scootaloo smiled a little herself.

"You okay?" Sweetie Belle asked after what must have been half an hour.

"Ye—" Scootaloo's throat burned. She swallowed and cleared it. "Yeah..."

"Think you can go back to sleep?"

"I... I'm not sure."

"You want me to stay here?"

Scootaloo sighed. She didn't want to keep Sweetie Belle up, but at the same time she felt safe with her there. After a minute of silence, she replied. "Yeah." She rolled over on her back, giving herself space to breathe.

She closed her eyes and began counting sheep. She reached four hundred sixteen before she lost track. At that moment she figured sleep was out of reach and chose to get up. It's gotta be almost dawn, she assured herself.

Rising from the couch proved to be much more difficult than she originally thought. Sweetie Belle had fallen asleep and was now leaning back against the headboard, mouth agape, a thin line of drool trailing down her chin. Though her consciousness had fled quickly and completely, her grip on Scootaloo hadn't lessened at all, and even now the pegasus was finding it hard to breathe. She needed air. She needed to get out of that room.

With the speed of a sloth, she wriggled her way out of the too-close-for-comfort embrace. Sweetie Belle stirred a little as Scootaloo's head cleared her forelegs. Scootaloo didn't dare breathe until she was sure that Sweetie Belle hadn't woken. Scootaloo then tiphoofed across the room and out the door, nudging it closed before making her way down the corridor.

* * *

><p>It was an overcast morning. Fog still filled the streets and the windows were covered by a layer of frost so thin that Scootaloo could wipe it away with her hoof if she chose to. However, she was much too groggy to be bothered with wiping the window. Maybe at another time, in another place, it would be slightly entertaining, but here? The only thing she wanted was sleep, and that wasn't coming to her any time soon.<p>

The inn reflected the outside world's bleak state. A chill hung in the air, unwarmed by the stone-cold hearth in the corner. The ruckus of the previous night no longer reverberated through the room, and the debris that cluttered the floor mere hours ago had been swept up. Now all that was left were bare floors, bare tables, and an ever-growing silence. She took a seat at one of the tables and stared out the window. There was not much to look at, but she felt that staring out the window wouldn't look as odd to a passerby as staring at her hooves or the naked tabletop.

A large crash rang out from the kitchen; the familiar clatter of pots, pans, and spilling water, all harmonized by a rush of four-letter words. Scootaloo stared at the door to the kitchen with cautious curiosity. There were no wails of torment — though she recognized the voice as belonging to Sal, and she doubted he would vocally express pain in that manner — but she still felt the urge to get up and see if there was any assistance she could provide. Of course it was just an urge; her rump remained firmly planted on the chair until Sal waddled into the room, a scowl on his face and a cauldron loosely balanced on his back. When he noticed Scootaloo his demeanor sparked slightly.

"Well, look who's up," he said as he placed the cauldron on top of the bar. "Trouble sleepin'?"

Scootaloo shrugged, eyes still set on the window. "Guess you could say that." She shivered slightly. Not enough to shake her chair, but enough for Sal to notice.

"Sorry 'bout the heat... or lack of it," he muttered, gaining her attention. A loud clanking noise filled the air as he began to stir the contents of the cauldron with a wooden spoon. After a few seconds of stirring he dropped the spoon, looked up, and continued. "Damn chimney got knocked over in a storm last month. If I try to light a fire... PHWOMP!" He raised his forelegs in the air. "Whole place fills with smoke." He paused, then added. "More smoke than usual. Only time I lit that thing since then — I think it was a week or two ago — the place filled up like a dragon's den." Sal picked up the spoon and began to stir again, chuckling to himself all the while.

Scootaloo went back to looking out the window. Dawn was breaking, but with the cloud cover as thick as it was the sun's rays didn't make much difference. It was still absolutely dreary. Scootaloo both welcomed and abhorred it. It was a fitting atmosphere, but the worst kind of fitting. The kind of 'fitting' that made her wish the creature she'd run into the day before had finished its job. She shifted her gaze away from the window and noticed that Sal had started talking talking again.

"... so, anyway, we gotta make do with what we got. So, I built a fire out back..."

Scootaloo was already bored... _again_. She wished she had grabbed _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool_ out of her saddlebags before leaving the room. The book was practically collecting dust. For all she knew, it could hold valuable information. Something in that book could save her life if she only took the time to read the thing. She made a note to read a chapter before the end of the day.

Her attention was once again brought back to the donkey with the thumping of wood-on-wood. Sal sat in the chair to Scootaloo's right and slid a mug filled with an odorless liquid over to her. Scootaloo stared down at it and pursed her lips. She'd heard things about drinks handed out by complete strangers — none of them good.

Sal seemed to notice her hesitance, so he lifted his own mug to his lips and took a deep gulp, making sure his Adam's apple visibly shook. He gave her a smirk. "See, not poison."

"Did I say I thought it was poisoned?" Scootaloo hadn't thought that, but now that Sal mentioned it...

"No, but I know your kind. Taught to be wary of strange things. I've seen it so many times." He stopped and chuckled. "That friend of yours, the unicorn, she was shakin' worse than a dead leaf in a tornado when she first walked in. I thought the poor thing was gonna have a heart attack."

"Woah! Woah!" Scootaloo shouted. Then, in a much softer voice continued, "I don't know either of those—"

"Don't give me that," Sal said sternly with a wave of his hoof. "That yella one with the bow was goin' on and on 'bout a pegasus with an orange coat, purple mane, and bad attitude. And kid, you fit all those to a tee."

Scootaloo chewed on her lip and stared into her mug. He had her there. She chose to change the subject. "So... what is this gunk anyway?"

Sal smiled wide enough for Scootaloo to see that his mouth had more empty space than teeth. "That 'gunk' is an old recipe my grandma taught me when I was just a little tyke. It ain't much. Just a bunch of leaves and berries from the forest. Barely have to cook the thing. Just gotta warm it up a bit to kill any pests. But it heats you up. Like a cup of coffee or tea, but without the brewing or risk of burning your tongue off." He paused and took a sip. "Go ahead. Try some."

With an uneasy smile she lifted the mug. Its lip was cold and rough. Its contents weren't much better. The liquid didn't seem to have a flavor. The only word Scootaloo could think of to describe it was "wet." Her face contorted as she swallowed the drink, and for a while it didn't seem to do much of anything. Yet, there was... something. Her hooves felt a bit lighter, her coat felt a bit softer, her body felt warmer, and her mind felt calmer.

"Good stuff, huh?" Sal smiled. Scootaloo didn't answer, but instead took another sip. There really was something magical about it.

"Yeah," she said, swallowing heavily to clear her throat.

There was another prolonged silence before he continued. "So you actually think you're gonna bring back the dead?"

Scootaloo's chair nearly tipped backwards as she recoiled, then fell over to the side with a loud clatter when she tried to catch herself. Normally, she would have jumped up to her hooves, laughing with her chin held high, but this time she stayed on the ground, fearful eyes locked with Sal's calm and aged ones. "H-h-how... wha?"

"Relax," he said. "As I said, that yappy yella one — Apple somethin'. I didn't catch the second part, she was talkin' so fast — pretty much told your entire story. Why they were searchin' for you. How you'd told 'em you were goin' to bring back this... Rainbow Dash? Was that it?"

"Yeah," Scootaloo stuttered out.

"Ah. Hmm, feel like I've heard that name before. Read it in the newspaper or somethin'. Anyways, she went on and on 'bout you. Used the words 'crazy,' 'stupid,' and 'Phoenix Pool,' quite a few times. Now... I don't know much 'bout the first two, but I do know 'bout this Phoenix Pool."

Scootaloo's ears perked up. "You... you know about the Phoenix Pool?" she asked, a tremor of both excitement and hesitation creeping into her voice. She rose to her hooves, rightened the chair, and sat down.

Sal shrugged. "Somethin' like it. Didn't call it by that name. That's an Equestrian thing. Out where I was born they called it Stromlos. Still, the name don't matter. It's what it is that makes it so desirable. So dangerous." He sighed and tapped his hoof on the table in a steady beat. "Ponies of all walks of life tryin' to fix the unfixable."

If a pin were to drop at that moment, its sound would have deafened.

"So... you've heard of it?" Scootaloo asked. Sal frowned and nodded. She continued. "Do you know if it's... well, is it... you know..."

"If it's real?" Sal said, his voice a low rumble. He furrowed his brow and looked to the ceiling. "Not sure. I've heard about the place enough. Everybody spins tales 'bout it. From the ponies in Canterlot to the dragons way out in The Fang. Still, it's all just stories."

Scootaloo frowned.

"Of course," Sal continued, "I said the whole Nightmare Moon thing was just a story, just like so many others. An old ponies' tale. I believed it was just a story, too. I've seen some crazy stuff in my days — bad, good, everything in between — but even I thought that story was silly. At least, that's what I thought.

"One night there was this stallion that stumbled into the inn, mane frazzled, coat matted, eyes wider than dinner plates. He was goin' on and on about all this stuff that, at the time, I thought was a load of manure. 'The sun's dead,' he said. 'The time of dark is now. The Nightmare is rising.' Now, I just thought this old fool was... well, a fool. I've heard these kind of apocalyptic ramblings more often than I've heard somebody ask for a damn drink. There's always someone goin' on about how the end is nigh, yet here we are. Just a load of manure. And I remembered what this day he was ramblin' on 'bout was. The return of Nightmare Moon. A favorite of them conspiracy nuts. 'Cause of this, I kicked the coot out, blew his words off, and carried on like normal.

"However, when mornin' came... it wasn't mornin'. See that clock over there?" Sal pointed over to the bar. Above a pyramid of vodka bottles was a large clock, both hands hovering over the "VI." The clock seemed like it should be in a mansion in Canterlot, not an tavern in a fishing village in the middle of nowhere.

"A merchant friend gave me that many moons ago. Good friend. Good merchant. A bit stingy, but his goods were always worth it. Anyway, he gave that to me after I'd escorted his wagon to a zebra village far to the south. Three-month-long trip each way. That... that was quite a story, but a long one. Not important right now.

"Anyway, that clock over there is set so that it is always on time. _Always_. Some kind of magical enchantment my friend gave it. And, on that day, the day that batty crone said the sun wasn't gonna rise. The day Nightmare Moon was s'posed to drown the world in eternal night. Well, it was noon, and it was darker than the underside of a lump of coal. The old fool had been right.

"Of course, the sun wound up finally risin' 'bout four in the afternoon, but still. He had been right. The sun had, at least for a few hours, died. Then the newspaper reports started pourin' in." Sal lifted his hoof and dragged it through the open air, as if writing out the headlines. "'The Nightmare Cometh!' 'Nightmare Moon Rises!' Since then, I've stopped writin' stuff off. Well, I've never been one to be skeptical, but since that day I've decided that nothin' is impossible."

For a few minutes, Scootaloo sat in silence, pondering what had been said. She wanted to speak up, but the words caught in her throat. When words failed, she resorted to frowning.

"Still, I've never heard 'bout it turning out well. Bringin' back the dead, that is," Sal said. "Even in the fairy tales, it never ends on a happy note." He looked into his mug, shook it a few times, and sighed. "If you plan on doin' this, it better be worth it."

Scootaloo nodded. "It is. It will be."

"How do you know?"

"Because Rainbow Dash is worth it."

"And why is Rainbow Dash worth it?"

She stopped cold. How can you possibly describe a pony like that? There were so many words she could say — some sweet, some pained, all admirable. Too many words. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to think about Rainbow Dash.

* * *

><p>Flower petals bounced in the wakes. A few clung to Scootaloo's hoof, but she quickly brushed them away. They had little weight and could be snapped in half by a gust of wind, but at that moment they were the coarsest thing.<p>

The pond had become her haven. It wasn't the largest, or the deepest, or even the bluest, but it was hers. Nopony else knew about it. During the day, it was like a little slice of paradise. During the night, it was cold and empty.

She had been going there for many nights now (twelve straight, to be exact), and she figured that the process would repeat itself for awhile. She'd wake up, go to school, go home, and lock herself in her room. Once her father had stopped hitting the bottle and hit the hay, she would sneak out of the house and into the heart of the Everfree Forest. Some of her friends still feared the Everfree, but Scootaloo didn't mind venturing within it. She wasn't scared of a bunch of plants.

It was a nice place. A quiet place. No thundering, slurren diatribes aimed at ghosts. No painted-on smiles. No sympathetic pats on the shoulder from ponies she had never even seen before.

It was just her and her thoughts, and tonight she was having trouble thinking.

Cold droplets splashed across her face as she hit the surface once more. She had occupied her mind with anything she could think of — the syncopation of a cricket's chirp, the number of birds still awake and active at this hour, the amount of petals in the pond. Now, she was counting how many ripples a single slap of her hoof would produce. The number varied, randomly falling between one and one hundred. She sighed.

Something in her said that she should just go back home, but she ignored it. She didn't want to go back. Not yet. Maybe never.

The stars were out in full tonight, twinkling and shining and...

… and taunting.

She groaned and rested her chin on her sopping forelegs. There wasn't much else to do — there was never anything to do — but she kept coming back. She would ask herself why she went, but had never received an answer. It was automatic.

Several theories had popped up. It could have been that the sereneness of the location was so unlike her recent homelife that it provided solace. Maybe it was because it reminded her of a better time.

Or maybe it was because of _who_ it reminded her of.

Snapping branches roused her, and she jumped to her hooves, searching for a place to hide. _That could be dad_. She jumped into some nearby bushes and crouched down, her shaking body rustling the leaves and giving away her position. _If he finds me out here I am soooo screwed._

The hoofsteps grew closer. Scootaloo held her breath, occasionally peeking out through a gap in the twigs.. A silhouette became apparent, walking down the path in a slow but steady gait. Scootaloo noticed a pair of wings flair out and she relaxed. It wasn't her father. However, that solace was short lived, ending with a whimper when Scootaloo noticed the pegasus' figure. It had all the trademark curves of a mare.

The figure stepped forward out of the tree line. Her body glowed in the moonlight, the beams reflecting off her mane and brightening the area to the point where Scootaloo felt the need to look to the sky and make sure the sun had not risen. Once she was sure that it was still the middle of the night, Scootaloo turned back to the mare. The heavy weight lifted off her chest ever so slightly, but her throat still threatened to close.

Before her stood Rainbow Dash, as awesome as ever. Even in the middle of night — when her normally colorful mane was monochromatic and dull — she was the archetype of coolness, awesomeness, and radicalness.

Rainbow trotted over to the side of the pond, dipped her hooves in, and splashed some water on her face. Even from a distance Scootaloo could hear her breathing. Heavy and rough. Dash must have just finished a late night training run; she practiced all the time nowadays. _Not that she needs to practice_, Scootaloo noted.

After splashing her face a couple of more times, Rainbow lowered herself to the ground. She lay in the moonlight, glancing at the water, then the sky, then the trees in a seemingly systematic pattern. Water, sky, trees. Water, sky, trees. Scootaloo felt the boredom coursing through her veins. Her legs grew heavy and she felt herself losing balance. Desperate to keep from falling, Scootaloo started to flutter her wings.

That only made matters worse.

Instead of keeping her from falling forward, her wing propelled her forward. She crashed through the bushes, landing face-down on the chilly earth. Never before had she desired to be invisible more then at that moment; lying on her face with her wings still fluttering fecklessly. Almost as soon as she landed did the sound of raspy cackles enter her ears. Scootaloo stopped her wings and immediately curled up into the smallest form she could muster. A wave of heat rushed across her face.

Suddenly, she felt a hoof reach under her chest and lift her up. Even in the dark she could see Rainbow's vibrant eyes. Energetic and beautiful.

"You alright, squirt?" she asked, some repressed chuckles sneaking out with the words.

Scootaloo kept her eyes on the ground. "Yeah... yeah, I'm good."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" Rainbow Dash asked. "It's, like, two in the morning."

"Couldn't sleep," Scootaloo muttered with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Uh huh." Dash looked into the woods behind Scootaloo, narrowing her eyes. Scootaloo turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of what Rainbow saw. She saw the faintest glimpse of a distant light, and soon she realized what it was. She had forgotten to turn the lights out when she had snuck out.

And she knew what Rainbow Dash was thinking; it was the very same thing she had gone to the pond to forget.

Rainbow sighed. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"Nope."

"You're not alone in that boat, Scoots."

"You?" Scootaloo scoffed. "Rainbow Dash — Equestria's greatest napper — can't sleep?"

"Heh, when you put it that way..." Dash trailed off, moving over to a nearby stump. She sat down and patted the space beside her, inviting Scootaloo to join her. Scootaloo obliged.

"How are you, Scootaloo?" she asked.

Scootaloo sighed. She could tell where this was going. It would start with her telling Rainbow that she was feeling down. Then, Rainbow — even though she knew exactly why Scootaloo was feeling that way — would ask what was wrong. The conversation would drift, skirting around the answer, before Scootaloo would finally break and admit that it was her mother. And then all the consoling and sympathy would spew forth once more.

She hated that. To make matters worse, she thought that if there was anypony who would avoid such things, it was Rainbow Dash. But, it looked as though even the brash and radical weren't immune to pathetic attempts at therapy.

Instead, Scootaloo just shrugged. Maybe that would push the conversation away from where it was ultimately heading.

"Ah," Dash said under her breath, looking off into the distance. Scootaloo averted her gaze. Suddenly, something warm draped over her back. She looked up and saw Rainbow Dash's wing, stretched out and wrapped around her. Just like her mother had done. A familiar weight pressed against Scootaloo's chest, but she held fast. She couldn't cry. Not in front of Rainbow Dash.

"I know it sounds crazy coming from me, but I love places like this," Dash said. "They're calming. Normally, I hate all this quiet crap, but... heh.

"First time I came here was right before the Young Fliers Competition... how many years ago? Four? Three? Whatever. I was doing some late-night flying, nervous about the competition and all that. I actually crashed into this place. That tree right over there." She pointed to an oak on the other side of the pond with a noticeable dent in its trunk. "Probably concussed me a little. Lost track of how many of those I've gotten.

"Anyway, it didn't calm my nerves. I was still a wreck the next day, but still. I always make sure I come here when I'm nervous about something. Seems to at least make me feel better."

"What are you nervous about now?" Scootaloo asked

"Nothing you'd like to hear about. Trust me."

Scootaloo sighed again. She had been doing a lot of that lately. "I guess..." She didn't know what compelled her to speak — she would have preferred silence — but she did. "... I guess I'm feeling a bit... not good."

The wing over her back tightened.

"I just," Scootaloo continued, voice shaking. "Miss her, you know?" She could feel her throat closing around the words, but they poured forth. "But... I can't help but feel like... she betrayed me." The tears began to fall. She feebly wiped at them a few times, hoping Rainbow didn't see them in the dark, before just letting them cascade down her quivering cheeks.

As she grieved, Rainbow's wing wrapped tighter and tighter until she was completely enswathed with blue feathers. They smelled like spring rain. Scootaloo couldn't help but feel like she could fall asleep in them.

And so she did.

* * *

><p>She woke up to bright sunlight and a weight against her side. At some point, Rainbow Dash had fallen asleep. Gentle snoring filled the morning air, drowning out the songs of the waking birds.<p>

Scootaloo didn't want to move. She didn't want to rouse Rainbow Dash. The moment was perfect.

Alas, nothing lasts forever.

Rainbow stirred and her eyes slowly fluttered open. "No, Pinkie. Not the sprinkles," she mumbled, drawing a tiny giggle from Scootaloo.

This sudden movement caused her to shoot up into the air, knocking Scootaloo flat on her back. A few dozen meters into the air, Rainbow Dash stopped and looked over her shoulder. From her position, Scootaloo got a perfect view of Dash's sheepish grin as she lowered herself back to the ground.

"Heh, heh. Sorry squirt," she said. "Thought you were... eh, it's not important."

Scootaloo rose back onto her hooves. "It's cool." She looked over her back, in the direction of her house. "I guess I better get back."

"Yeah, guess so." Rainbow glanced at the sky. "I've got some clouds to clear, anyway."

With that, Rainbow Dash began to rocket off into the sky.

"Hey, Rainbow Dash! _Wait!_" Scootaloo called out.

Dash lowered herself to the ground once more, a slightly peeved look on her face. "What is it?" she asked.

"Thanks. I needed to..." Scootaloo pawed at the ground. "You know, I needed to get that off my chest, and all... I've really had nobody... there..." Scootaloo trailed off. _Stop being so awkward!_

Rainbow Dash smiled and waved a hoof in the air. "It was nothing, Scoots." She leaned down and patted Scootaloo on the shoulder, looking directly into her eyes. "Look, if you ever need anypony, I'm here. Just find me. Okay?"

Scootaloo grinned, barely able to hold her excitement. "Okay!" she squeaked.

"All right. See you around, kid." With that, she was off.

Scootaloo watched Rainbow Dash soar through the sky until she disappeared behind the tree branches. She sighed for what felt like the millionth time, but this time it was a happy sigh. She turned and trotted back to her house, an extra skip in her step.

* * *

><p>"So..." Sal's voice roused Scootaloo from her reverie. "Why is Rainbow Dash worth it?"<p>

Scootaloo looked off to the side and thought. "Because she deserves better." She paused. "That a good enough answer for you?" she said with a scowl.

Sal simply nodded back. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, and blew out a long, curvy trail of smoke. "You're gonna do this regardless? Nothin' anybody's gonna tell you is gonna change your mind?"

"No," Scootaloo said. She glanced to the stairs and sighed. "I know my friends came here to take me back. I don't know how they found me, but they did. And I know they're not here to accompany me. Well, accompany me back to Ponyville, maybe, but you get what I mean."

Sal nodded once again. "Yep. Those friends of yours won't stop 'til you're all back in Ponyville, so..." He drifted off and blew out another ring of smoke. It was darker. Blacker. "If you're gonna do this, then do it. Find the path. Keep walkin'. Don't stop for 'em. You seem tougher than those two, so it's not like they can take you back by force."

"I don't know. Apple Bloom's pretty strong."

"Maybe, but you have something they don't."

Scootaloo leaned forward. "What's that?" she asked.

He chortled and leaned his chair onto its two back legs, propping his hooves up on the table. "You know what it is."

She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, dude. Just tell me already."

Sal gave a single throaty chuckle. "No... no, it's for you to figure out. That's the only way it'll mean anything."

_What a load of lazy philosophical manure_, Scootaloo muttered inwardly.

A veil of silence fell over them once more. Somebody coughed upstairs, but no floorboards creaked and nobody stumbled down the steps. For awhile, it felt like time had stopped. Maybe it had.

Scootaloo looked out the window. The sun's body was peeking over the mountainside. Soon, her friends would awaken.

Soon, it would be too late.

She wiped her chin, hopped down from her chair, and made a beeline for the staircase. Right as her hoof touched the first step, she turned to Sal, a smile etched across her face. "Thanks," she said before running up the stairs.

Sal leaned back and took another long drag. "Think nothin' of it."

* * *

><p>Apple Bloom was already awake when Scootaloo entered the room. This didn't come as a surprise; Apple Bloom had been rising at dawn since she was just a foal. She was sitting up on the bed, reading some book, which she immediately lowered when she noticed Scootaloo enter the room.<p>

"Hey, Scootaloo," Apple Bloom said. "Where ya been?"

"Downstairs," Scootaloo hastily replied, walking over to the couch. Sweetie Belle was still fast asleep.

"Really? Did they have any breakfast set up?" Apple Bloom licked her lips. "I am starving. I sure could go for some apple cobbler right 'bout now. Tell me they had that down there."

"Nope." Scootaloo bent down and picked up her saddlebags. "Just talked."

Apple Bloom cocked her head. "Talked? To who? 'Bout what?" She stopped as Scootaloo pushed past her. Shocked, she chased after the pegasus. "Where the hay are you goin'?!"

"Leaving."

"Leavin'? Huh?! _Wha_?" Apple Bloom rushed back into the room and over to the couch. She shook Sweetie Belle several times before hustling over to the closet and throwing the door open.

Sweetie Belle squinted at Apple Bloom through half-lidded eyes. "What?" She yawned. "What time is—" A flying saddlebag to the chest cut her off. "_Ow_! What the hay, Apple Bloom?"

"Scootaloo's runnin' off again," she muttered as she tightened the straps around her back. "Girl's lost her mind."

Sweetie Belle's jaw dropped. "What? Again?"

"I'm 'fraid so," Apple Bloom said. She helped Sweetie Belle get her saddlebags on, then ran out the door. "Come on!" she called over her shoulder.

Sweetie Belle sighed and gave chase, making sure to shut the door on the way out


	8. We Are All Going

Mist filled the street outside of Sal's inn, but Scootaloo couldn't tell it from her sweat. She had forgotten about the previous night's rain, as well as the dirt road, and was now paying for it.

The road was a morass of mud, holding the same consistency as wet cement. Scootaloo found herself having to pull her legs out of slushy, murky-water-filled holes after nearly every step, making any attempt at escape futile. She could hear Apple Bloom yelling at her, her voice growing louder while Scootaloo tripped over soppy ruts at a more frequent rate.

"Scootaloo! Dangit, wait up!" Apple Bloom called out. No sooner had the words left her mouth than the sound of splashing graced Scootaloo's ears.

_Did she just? No. No way._ Scootaloo looked behind her and burst into guffaws almost immediately. No more than ten yards behind her was Apple Bloom, face-down in a puddle, legs splayed out to her sides. She lifted her face, now caked in a lumpy brown mask, out of the puddle and glared.

"Shut it," Apple Bloom grumbled, pushing herself back onto all four hooves.

"Can't even get across the road without nearly drowning," Scootaloo said with a laugh.

"Look who's talkin', Broken Nose."

"Hey!" Scootaloo motioned to her muzzle, nostrils still ringed with dried blood. "At least I got this from falling off a cliff. I fell off a cliff, Apple Bloom! _And_ I walked away."

"That's s'posed ta be impressive?" Apple Bloom said. "A pegasus fallin' off a cliff. That ain't impressive. Just sad."

Scootaloo bit her lip. _At least she didn't call me a chicken this time._ "Whatever you say, manure face," she spat out.

Apple Boom rolled her eyes and tried to wipe the mud off her face.

Scootaloo started to laugh again as the substance smeared over Apple Bloom's face, making it worse than it already was. However, she was stopped mid-laugh by her own hoof getting caught on a loose rock. Karma almost got her back, but she caught herself just before her face got reintroduced to the swampy road.

She looked back, grinning sheepishly. Luckily, Apple Bloom hadn't seemed to notice her lack of grace. With renewed spirits, Scootaloo continued with her schoolyard jabs.

"I'm surprised you didn't get yourselves killed before you found me," Scootaloo said. She paused, raising an eyebrow. "How did you find me, anyway? You never said."

"Well, ya didn't make it a secret. Ya shoved the book right in my face." Apple Bloom sifted through her saddlebags and pulled out a book. A book with an unmistakable pegasus on the cover. Scootaloo's jaw came unhinged. No way.

"But. I. Wha? How?" Scootaloo stuttered out.

"Twilight's got the whole series in stock, in case ya didn't notice. Not that that's a surprise or nothin'." Her eyes narrowed once more, but this time they were accompanied with a grin. Scootaloo gulped.

"Yep, the whole series," Apple Bloom said. "Including a buncha copies of each book." Scootaloo hated how proud of herself Apple Bloom appeared to be. Smug as a bug, and just as desirable to crush.

"So, you followed the map?" Scootaloo said.

"Well, if ya were able to follow it, then of course we would," Apple Bloom said. She chuckled. "Considerin' how ya got a half day's head start and still got beat, I think it's safe ta say we're... what's the word? Better at it than ya are."

Scootaloo's hoof sunk deeper into the mud. For a few seconds the only sound were her teeth grinding together.

"Well, that's good to know," she finally said, turning and trudging away from her friends once more.

She wouldn't give Apple Bloom the benefit of seeing it, but the words hurt. Being called dumb and pathetic at the same time?

_Sure, I started it, but still... that's low..._

Scootaloo let the thought drift down current, focusing instead on the path before her.

If she knew what the path was, anyway.

She groaned and kicked a puddle, groaning again when muddy water splashed up in her face.

_I really should have thought this out._

She knew what she had to do. She had to stop, look at the map, figure out what she was going to do, and finally do it. Not a difficult task, save for one problem.

If she stopped, Apple Bloom would catch up with her again. And then the nagging and protesting would begin again. Scootaloo already had a headache. She didn't want it getting any worse.

She stole a glance over her back and noticed that Apple Bloom had fallen back, looking at herself in a dusty window and trying to wipe the remaining mud off. One eye was closed. _Probably got some mud in there. That sucks._

Normally, Scootaloo would have felt sympathy for her friend. She may have been one to laugh at other's misfortunes, but only when that pony was a stranger or a jerk. She hated seeing her friends in pain. And Apple Bloom was her friend, right? They weren't getting along at the moment, but they hadn't disowned each other, so she supposed that they were still "friends."

_Right?_

Still, Apple Bloom was distracted, which was exactly the break that Scootaloo needed.

She started looking around for a hiding place. Unfortunately, she wasn't in a bustling city like Canterlot or a populous town like Ponyville, so she could not simply duck into a random coffeehouse and hope for the best. No, this town — whatever its name was — was like something straight out of the comics she would look at with her classmates after one of them had "borrowed" it from their older brother. If those comics were anything to go by, it was only a matter of time until the ponies of the village turned to fish-ponies and the few buildings that littered the slopey town fell in upon themselves, revealing holes to the bowels of Tartarus.

_If it dries this road up, I'll welcome it._

From what she could tell, the town lacked shops. There was the occasional merchant stall set up, but they were in various states of abandon. Some had cobwebs hanging down from their faded signs, some were littered with holes, complete with the occasional critter sticking its head out to take a look around. Even the ones that operated made Scootaloo sick to her stomach; there were few smells more repugnant than that of a hundred decaying cabbages.

The houses didn't fare much better. The blocks were a cluttered mess of cramped houses in various states of squalor. The porches were covered with empty bottles, rusted fishing gear, and other things you wouldn't want to step on. Black smoke seeped out of thin tin-pipe chimneys, painting the overcast sky with an even darker smog. The air smelled like burning plastic and rotten eggs.

It was as she was retching over a particularly foul stench — the house had a smaller chimney than the others and the smoke was blowing directly into her face, smelling of sulfur and death — that the bell tolled out. Her ears perked up. It tolled once more. A flock of birds flew past her head, spooked by the sudden cacophony.

_That's the same bell I heard last night._

Her gaze darted through the sky, following the trail of fluttering feathers until they settled on the culprit. The bell hung at the top of a small steeple connected to a stone building. The building had a large yard out front, surrounded by looming iron bars, littered with granite slabs. Weeds and moss danced along building and tombstones. Scootaloo found it odd that the graveyard would be kept in such poor condition — it seemed disrespectful. However, there was a positive. Something that made her let out a sigh of relief.

The markers were just tall enough for her to hide behind.

She glanced back over her back and noticed that Apple Bloom had gotten a hind leg stuck in a hole once again. She was tugging at it with her forelegs — her free hind leg pushing against the ground, sliding occasionally on the sloughy surface — and grunting loud enough to be heard over the bell. Scootaloo grinned. _Perfect._

Without a moment of hesitation, Scootaloo veered towards the graveyard. The gate door was already open, and she scurried over to the largest grave she could find. The lucky stone was one with a sculpture of a pony on top. Looking over her shoulder one last time to make sure she hadn't been followed, Scootaloo ducked down, leaning against the cold, damp, moss-covered stone.

She rummaged through her saddlebags and pulled out Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool. After a few more seconds of searching, she pulled out the map as well — halves still askew and held together by dirty bandages. She laid them both out on the grass and started to plan.

_All right, let's do this._ She paused to crack her hooves and neck. _Okay, so I was supposed to get off at the first stop after Canterlot. Overshot that, but I'm guessing that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had the same plan: get off at first stop, stay at closest inn, wake up and... and what?_

_Okay, so getting off at the first stop would put me here!_ She tapped the map, causing the bandaged bindings to loosen. _So, this town's called Nilbog, eh? Heh, that's a stupid name. Okay, and from here I go... I go... huh._

Scootaloo leaned in close to the Daring Do map, squinting and scratching her head. For what felt like hours her gaze drifted between the two maps, absorbing nothing.

_I... am I even going the right way? I mean, I must be going the right way, or else Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle wouldn't have found me, but... what if they screwed up, too? Or what if they knew I was going to totally botch the directions? I know they don't think I'm that smart — hay, even I don't think I'm that smart. It's crazy, but... well, I've seen crazier._

She leaned her head back against the stone, letting the dew cling to her mane and cool down her throbbing skull.

_Ugh. Once again, you've totally botched everything, Scootaloo. How did I not notice that? They're not the same, but... but I swear they were identical when I... how come now they're?_

At a loss, Scootaloo massaged her temples with her hooves, closing her eyes and trying her best to soothe her wailing mind. After a few moments of attempted calming proved ineffective, she lowered her hooves and opened her eyes.

It was then that she noticed the statue at the top of the grave.

It was a pegasus. Scootaloo felt a pressure building within her, but she blew it off. Get over it, she inwardly mumbled. _Get over it. Just a pegasus. That's it. Nothing else. Nothing special._ She sighed and went to pick up the map. As her hoof touched, one half fell away, landing face-down on the dank earth.

The valve broke. She didn't even know why the pressure had chosen to build up over such a simple, meaningless coincidence, but it had. And it was now forcing its way through her veins and muscles. She felt it jabbing her like a thousand needles, pricking every single pore. The world around her was but a blur. She was pissed.

She slammed her hoof against the soaked paper. _Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit._ She kicked at the map until it was in tatters. This did nothing to quell her chagrin.

_Now what the hay am I going to follow? This useless thing?_ She kicked the book, sending it sailing through the air. It hit one of the stones with a loud thump that echoed through the cemetery.

"Dammit!" she roared, scaring off a couple of birds that had nestled down on one of the nearby graves.

For several moments, she stood stock-still, breathing through gritted teeth, trying to burn the paper with her furious gaze.

"Scootaloo?" a tremulous voice rang out, barely heard over the seething breaths and pulsing in her head.

Scootaloo looked to her side, expression still baneful, and saw Sweetie Belle a good distance away, just barely inside the gate. Her face was ashen and her lips quivered, wavering between a nervous smile and terrified frown.

Scootaloo had to look away. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. _Calm down. You're overreacting. You're being immature. Toughen up and stop acting like a damn filly._

She opened her eyes and looked back at Sweetie Belle. "Hey," she said.

"H-hey," Sweetie Belle responded. Her voice reminded Scootaloo of Fluttershy's: small and frightened.

Scootaloo looked behind Sweetie Belle, expecting to see a bow sticking out between the fenceposts, or a pair of gamboge eyes narrowed in an acrimonious glare. She saw neither of these. "Where's Apple Bloom?" she asked without looking back at Sweetie Belle.

"I caught up to her and we decided split up," Sweetie Belle said, voice steadier. "There was a, uh, fork in the road, back there." She pointed towards one of the houses. Scootaloo didn't remember it. Sweetie Belle continued, "She took the left, I took the right." She paused. "She may be heading this way, though. Probably heard you."

Scootaloo shrugged, gaze still set on the space behind Sweetie Belle's head. Sweetie Belle turned around, stared at the spot Scootaloo appeared to be concentrating on for a few seconds, then turned back, brow furrowed.

"Glad you found me," Scootaloo said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What's going on, Scoots?"

Scootaloo said nothing. She walked over to where the book lay, cover soaked through by water and mud, and picked it up in her mouth. As she lifted it, her tongue brushed against the spine, and the taste of filth filled her mouth. It took all her will to suppress the urge to gag, but she managed, and dropped the book into her saddlebags. She tried to spit the taste out, but it remained. Then, without so much as glancing at Sweetie Belle, she walked out of the cemetery and started down main street once more.

* * *

><p>The train station looked as one might expect in the early morning: lonely and quiet. The tracks shaking as a train rumbled towards its destination. If someone were to squint, they might make out a plume of black smoke rising from behind the trees. If not, they could usually hear its distant whistle, high-pitched and in some ways beautiful.<p>

Usually.

"What do you mean it's ten bits for a seat?" Scootaloo shrieked, causing the ticket clerk to jump out of her stool and bump her head on the top of the booth window

"I mean," the clerk replied, rubbing an ear and the back of her head simultaneously, "it's ten bits for a seat."

"I took this route — this _same exact train_ — from Ponyville, and you want to know how much it cost?"

"You've got me," the clerk muttered. She lifted her hoof and lazily waved it through the air. "Fire away."

"Two bits," Scootaloo said. "As in three times less than ten."

"Five, actually," the clerk corrected.

Scootaloo slammed her hoof. "Whatever. It's still too much!"

"Look, kid. That's the price. It's not changing. Buzz off." The clerk waved his hoof. "Shoo."

"Hey, you can't just—"

"Next."

"—do stuff like this. It's unethical, it's—"

"_Next!_"

"There's a circle in Tartarus for ponies like you," Scootaloo groused, drifting off as she turned to head... somewhere. A train, the same train she was supposed to get on, was coming to a stop at the station, blanketing the world around her in steam. She was about to go down the stairs, ready to venture the streets of Nilbog to search for bits some unlucky sap might have dropped, when somebody grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around.

She knew who it was before her vision had even readjusted.

"Hi, Apple Bloom," Scootaloo grumbled, glowering at her own hooves.

"Guess it's kinda hard ta run away without money, huh?" Apple Bloom chuckled.

"Look, could you just, like, go away. Back to Ponyville or whatever."

"Why?"

"I'm not an idiot, Apple Bloom." Scootaloo lifted her head and looked Apple Bloom dead in the eyes. "I know what you came here to do. You came here to drag me back to Ponyville."

"Well, I won't lie to ya, Scoots. That's exactly what we're here for," Apple Bloom said. "Still don't explain why you're tryin' to get on that train."

"The map in the book's wrong."

"Beg yer pardon?"

"You followed the map, right? The map in the book?"

"Well, yeah."

"And did you use a real map?"

"No..." Apple Bloom kicked one foreleg with the other."

"Yeah, the book one's totally messed up. I thought they were similar, but they're not. The Phoenix Pool's actually to the northwest of Canterlot, not the west." She paused and sighed, kicking a stray can that lay in on the ground in front of her. "I can't believe I didn't notice. I was looking at the map and book side by side, and... I must be losing it, 'cause they looked identical. Like, completely." She shook her head and another hiss of the train's pistons filled the platform with steam. Behind her, Apple Bloom coughed, but Scootaloo was too busy kicking herself to notice.

"So, yeah," she continued, "the map in the book isn't accurate. Still, at least it pointed me in the right direction. Didn't go east, right?" Scootaloo laughed a little, but Apple Bloom didn't appear amused in the slightest.

"Really now?" Apple Bloom spoke after a long pause. "The book had it wrong?"

"Yeah, so I'm trying to..."

Apple Bloom leaned forward. "Tryin' to what?"

"Nothing," Scootaloo said, pulling away from Apple Bloom and walking down the platform, eyes set on the stalled train. With an audible groan, Apple Bloom gave chase.

"What the hay's yer malfunction?" she asked, throwing herself in front of Scootaloo, halting her mere inches from her face.

"If I tell you," Scootaloo said flatly, "you're gonna run back to Ponyville and tell everypony where I went. Missing foal reports. Cash rewards. Everything ruined."

"Like we're gonna just let ya run off by yerself again," Apple Bloom cut in. "I ain't lettin' ya outta my sight."

"Wow, how noble of you," Scootaloo groaned. "Look, just... stay outta my way." She pushed past Apple Bloom and trudged to the edge of the platform. There were still a few ponies cantering around the train. Two unicorn stallions were sharing a loud conversation near traincar steps, a family of pegasi were giving tearful goodbyes, and an earth pony mare was lollygagging near the newspaper stand with a suitcase still firmly clamped between her teeth.

Once the conductor made his last call however, the atmosphere would change. A slight bit of chaos would unfold as ponies rushed onto the train. Then the train would begin to depart. The platform would be empty, save for the family waving bye, refusing to let go. They would be distracted, and that was when Scootaloo would make her move.

"Scoots," Apple Bloom said from behind her. Even though she couldn't see it, Scootaloo could picture her expression: eyes narrowed, head tilted forward, a frown drawing down her mouth. "What are ya doin'?" she concluded, her voice a rumble.

"The train leaves in a few minutes," Scootaloo answered, unsure why she even bothered to. "I'm gonna jump on it. Right as it's leaving the station.

Apple Bloom moaned. "I've heard ya say some stupid stuff, Scoots, but this one takes the pie." She paused, as if the sheer lunacy of Scootaloo's idea weighed down her tongue. Finally she continued, "First off, ya could get yerself hurt, or _killed_. Hay, it ain't even a 'could.' Ya _will_ get yerself hurt or worse. And second, if ya do make it, ya'll get found out and kicked off by the next stop."

"I won't get caught," Scootaloo said. "And even if I am, I'll just break out and keep heading northwest."

"Scoots," Apple Bloom sighed. "This is crazy. Stupid, selfish, and crazy."

Scootaloo continued looking back and forth down the platform, paying no mind to Apple Bloom.

"Runnin' away from this ain't gonna help, Scoots," Apple Bloom said, her voice suddenly eerily calm. "Didn't work for me. I know how all of this seems unfair — seems like the world's against ya — but... think for two seconds. Think 'bout what yer pa's goin' through."

"Apple Bloom, will you shut u—"

"Seriously, hasn't he been through enough. Abandoned twice? Think about it for a dang second, Scootaloo. Just—"

"Shut up!"

Silence fell between the two fillies. The rest of the world puttered on as usual — a cacophony of voices and hisses and a hundred strange faces — but to Scootaloo it was all shadows and static. She glanced down at the conductor, then the train, waiting for him to close his pocket watch and cry out, 'all aboard.'

"Why are ya even tryin' ta hop on the train?" Apple Bloom asked, cracking the silence.

"Out of money," Scootaloo said. The train's pistons hissed. It was almost time. She was so focused on the train that she didn't notice that Apple Bloom was still speaking.

"... fine, ya do that," she said in a hushed tone.

Scootaloo turned around, and came face-to-face with Apple Bloom and... nopony else. Scootaloo could have sworn she heard a second voice — no words, but a different tone. Apple Bloom's shifting gaze failed to quell Scootaloo's suspicions.

"Who were you talking to?" Scootaloo said, making sure her voice sounded as neutral as possible.

Apple Bloom glanced to the side. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"I heard you."

"I was talkin' to _you._"

"Uh-huh..." Scootaloo quickly glanced at the conductor, then back to Apple Bloom. "And what were you talking about?"

There was a long pause before Apple Bloom finally answered, "Candy canes."

Scootaloo glowered at the liar, watching as a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. _Like sister, like sister_, Scootaloo thought as she turned her attention back to the conductor. Scootaloo grinned as his mouth opened.

"All abo—"

He stopped, attention grabbed by something Scootaloo couldn't see. Suddenly, the ticket clerk from earlier came into view, waving a hoof in the air. Even from a distance Scootaloo could tell that he was out of breath as he began to converse. _Lazy stiff._

The conductor looked annoyed. Considering the ticket clerk's behavior a few minutes before, his peeved state was understandable. Their discussion was a heated and animated one. The conductor would point to his brass watch, whiskers of his long moustache flapping against his exclaimed words, and then the ticket clerk would point...

_Is he pointing at me?_

She rubbed her eyes with a hoof and checked again. Sure enough, he was pointing directly at her.

"Uh, Apple Bloom?" Scootaloo asked, not taking her eye off the clerk.

"Yeah?"

"Before you guys left, was I... uh, 'missing.' As in, search parties and fliers and all that?"

"Yeah. Your pa had half the town out lookin' for ya. "

She gulped. _Great. They know... Celestia dammit, they know._ Her gaze shot around the platform like a dog looking for a white frisbee in a bed of flour. There were several potential escape routes, but none of them seemed like they would be effective. _I'm done for_.

She turned to sprint down the steps — maybe Sal could spare her a bed for another night — and ran directly into a snow-white foreleg holding three blue things. Her face almost got reintroduced to the comforts of wood boards, but she was able to regain her balance before disaster struck. Groaning, she glared at whoever had almost taken her head off.

Sweetie Belle stood with a bright smile on her face, waving three blue sheets of paper in Scootaloo's face.

"I've got tickets!" she squeaked.

Scootaloo's jaw dropped. "UhWHA?"

"Tickets," Sweetie Belle repeated.

Scootaloo looked at the paper, then at Sweetie Belle, then at Apple Bloom and her disgustingly smug grin. Were they? No, they couldn't be. It had to be a trick.

"Lemme see those." Scootaloo snatched the tickets and looked them over. She read them once, twice, over and over. She could feel her mouth opening wider and wider — completely out of her control — as the truth started to set in.

The tickets didn't read "Ponyville" as she had expected. Nay, they read "Vanhoover."

She wasn't sure how to react, so she just stood still, an inhuman squeak emitting from her twitching lips. She couldn't move. She couldn't look at anything other than the sheets of paper, filled with emotions and expressing none.

Her brief venture into paralyzation was broken by a harsh voice.

"Y'all gettin' aboard or not?" the conductor barked.

"'Course we are," Apple Bloom replied. She grabbed Scootaloo's side and pulled her towards the steps. Scootaloo's hooves made a piercing scraping sound as they drug across the platform. "Come on, Scoots," Apple Bloom groused. "Move your dang legs." Scootaloo didn't comply until her shins bumped against the cold steel of the steps.

The car was nearly empty, the only other occupants being a napping earth pony with a silky fire-red mane and a blond-maned unicorn and her foal. Dark circles lined the mare's eyes and her mane was in curlers. Scootaloo guessed that the foal hadn't had a good night.

They found seats near the front of the first car — within a stone's throw of the dining cart. Scootaloo sat next to Sweetie Belle. Apple Bloom sat directly across from Scootaloo, eyes dead-set on the pegasus. The smell of pancakes and grits seeped through the crack in the door, and right into Scootaloo's nose. She had forgotten that she hadn't had breakfast yet, and her mouth started to water.

A shrill whistle filled the air, and the train lurched forward. The seats squeaked as Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were pushed against them. Scootaloo felt a spring jabbing her in the back, right on one of her vertebrae. But she didn't flinch — didn't even shift into a more comfortable position. Reality still hadn't fully come back to her yet.

Why had they bought her tickets? Was it all part of some elaborate plan, or did they genuinely care? Did this mean that they wanted to help her? _No_, she thought. _Apple Bloom wouldn't change her mind that quickly_. Still she couldn't help but wonder.

Memories came back to her with the bouncing rails. Dark memories. Nightmares. She looked over at the mother and foal, half expecting the mare to now be a dark mass consuming a demonspawn baby. But that wasn't the case. No, they were still just a mother and foal. Even with that small seed of solace planted, Scootaloo found herself glancing over her shoulder more often than not.

Apple Bloom had noticed.

"What's eatin' ya now?" she asked, yawning immediately afterwards. Scootaloo stole a glance out the window and noticed that they were traveling through a green, wildflower-filled plain. In the distance, she swore she saw a pack of deer disappearing into a thick forest that hung near the edge. She had always wanted to meet a deer. The stories she had heard about them were always awesome. She noticed that the sun was near its apex. It was noon at the earliest. Where had the time gone?

"Scoots," Apple Bloom said once more, tenser, "I asked ya what's botherin' you?"

"I don't remember," she answered. She wasn't lying.

"You don't have to hide things from us, Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle said, placing a gentle hoof on her shoulder.

"I'm not. Something was bothering me, but... I can't remember. Honest."

"Yeah," Apple Bloom said, not sounding convinced.

Scootaloo looked over at Sweetie Belle. She was looking at her through wide eyes that seemed almost hurt. Scootaloo hated it when Sweetie Belle looked at her like that. She gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and something she hoped resembled a smile.

"I swear, I don't remember," she said, the edge in her voice gone. "If I did, I'd tell you."

Sweetie Belle nodded and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Scootaloo looked back at Apple Bloom and noticed that she was doing the same. It hadn't occurred to Scootaloo until now that none of them had gotten any more than three hours of sleep the night before. Even she was feeling a bit tired, but not to the point of beat.

Boredom sunk in, and she reached into her saddlebags. There was enough light to read on this train ride, and she was not going to waste another opportunity. She dug past the blanket and an old piece of bread before finally connecting with something hard. The _thunk_ echoed through the silent car. Scootaloo tensed up and glanced at her friends. Luckily neither of them even stirred. She let out a sigh of relief, pulled out the book, sat it on her lap, and opened it to the dog-eared page.

* * *

><p><em>Daring Do leaned back, hooves covering her face. The fireflies in the lantern she had been using for a reading lamp had all flickered out. Possibly sleeping. Possibly dead. Now all that lit the leather-bound pages of the ancient tome was a single candle, worn down to its nub, casting a faint orange glow that barely illuminated the intricate curves of each letter.<em>

_Her father — if it really was her father — had told her that the book would explain everything. He had even given her a specific page: one-hundred-sixty-four. However, now that she was actually looking the page in the flesh, she believed that her father had far loftier opinions on her knowledge than was true._

_For starters, it was written in a dead language, resembling the languages of the griffons, the deer, the bison, the camels, and the zebra, all in a single word. Some of the letters she had never even seen before, and she knew every language known to ponykind. Even the dead ones. She wasn't even sure if she should read left-to-right or right-to-left._

_With a loud groan, she dragged her hooves down her face, pulling her eyelids down and giving her an almost comical expression. This was more difficult than the honors quantum physics class she had mistakenly signed up for during college. At least then she had cheat sheets and a roommate who could tutor her... or do the homework for her if she were in a giving mood._

_Daring Do sighed and leaned over the book once again, tracing the lines with her hoof. From the little amount she could decipher, it spoke of some pool and the dead — just as her father had mentioned. Aside from that, it was gibberish. No reference to a location, no drawings, just words she couldn't understand._

_Frustration took hold of her nerves — the grief and stress having built up in her chest like pus in a boil — and she unleashed a barrage of brutality that would make punks cheer and librarians faint where they stood. She slammed her hoof against the book, tore at its pages, tossed it against the walls. Setting it aflame on the candle was a tempting proposition as well, but she decided against it. Considering the book's age, the smoke would probably be putrid and unbearable._

_It was as she was about to go to town on the book with a quill that she noticed the crease._

_At first, Daring thought it was just another page, but upon closer inspection she noticed the peel. She grabbed the page — one-hundred-sixty-four — and pulled it back. What came into view was shocking yet rather predictable._

_She didn't know what had led whoever had glued the decoy page over the real one to do so. She hypothesized that it had been her father, either hiding it from somebody out of fear, or hiding it from her just for ha-has. Placing a hoof to her chin, she dredged her memory. Had her father died under specific circumstances? He did have a heart attack even though he had seemed healthy for a pony his age. She listed off organizations her father might have pissed off, poisons that caused heart attacks, and foods that said poison could be hidden in — specifically poison that was odorless and flavorless._

_Then she remembered that a heart condition ran in her family, and the theories drifted off like sawdust on a city street._

_The page contained a map. It resembled Equestria, but only barely. The seas stretched too far, the White Tail Woods were too far to the west, and Neighagra Falls was surprisingly absent. Still, it had the major cities: Canterlot, Cloudsdale, Fillydelphia, and Baltimare._

_Below it was text, clearly mouth-written in Equestrian. Daring Do was surprised at how well the words had been sketched out. It was almost as if whoever had written them had treated each letter like a piece of art._

_Beyond the mountains, across the sea_

_Shines a light, bright as a flame_

_Cool as ice, soft as mane_

_Grab the souls, set them free_

_Daring had to admit that she was disappointed. She had expected something complex and cryptic. What she got... well, it was almost too simple. She doubted its authenticity, yet her father assured her that such a place was real. Then again, her father was dead and his supposed words were probably little more than hallucinations of a grieving mind._

_Still, if she were hallucinating, how would she know? How would she know of the page, or the book, or the shelf, or the Pool in general? She cradled her head in her hooves and groaned._

_The candle flared up for a brief moment, and she noticed a faint blood-red line drawn across the map. She moved it closer to the candle and, squinting, was able to trace its course. It started near Canterlot, drifted far to the west, over the sea, and right into the heart of..._

_The Fang_

_A feeling of fear ran up her spine. She looked away from the map, shaking her head. It was then that she noticed the picture, or rather the dying flame reflecting in its frame. She scooted it over to her and looked at it._

_It was her when she was just a foal, an oversized hat drooping over her eyes and a silly smile on her face. She laughed. She had told her father to throw away the picture. 'It's embarrassing,' she had whined. 'How can I be taken seriously when the first thing your colleagues see is me looking like a fool?' Apparently, he had never gotten the message. That didn't surprise her in the slightest. It was just like him, and she loved him for that._

_A melancholy smile grew on her lips._

'_There's a back door...'_

_She pulled out a sheet of paper out of her father's desk, and began to write._

_"Dear Pallah,_

_Meet me at Vanhoover dock, this Friday. Two o'clock sharp_

_-Daring Do"_

_With a heavy grunt, she lifted herself off the chair and cantered over to a small bowl-like object her father kept in his office. It was cast iron, burnt black as night after years of use. Green flames flickered over the lid, casting her face in a surreal glow. The flames never had to be tended to. Her father said it was a gift from the dragons and to not ask any more questions about it. She had complied._

_In the end, all that mattered was that it sent letters to whomever they were addressed to. Daring wondered how it worked — it would probably take years of study, research, and experimentation to get the process broken down into a sensible formula. Years she didn't have, nor cared about at the moment._

_She dropped the letter into the bowl, and it burnt and crumbled into ash. It would take the letter a few hours to reach its destination and a few hours for a responses. She looked at the small cuckoo clock that hung on the wall and noticed that it was nearly midnight. "Wow," she whispered to the air. "It's late."_

_As if triggered by the words, she stretched and yawned, smacking her chapped lips. The response would still be there in the morning. She walked over to the candle and blew it out, stealing one last glimpse of the picture before leaving the room and plummeting into a restless slumber._


	9. Afterglow

**Chapter Nine**

Scootaloo rode through Market Square, weaving between stands and ponies while glancing at the sky every so often. She hoped that luck was on her side and she would spot a rainbow tail hanging over the edge of a solitary cloud. Alas, it was not to be. The sky was clear.

The sun beat down on Ponyville with an insufferable heat. The weather patrol tried to keep things bearable, making the cloud cover considerably thicker than normal, but creating the amount of clouds needed to keep the town cool cost a hoof and a wing. Ponyville was lucky to get two cloudy days a week.

Because of this, days like today existed. Days where the cobblestone felt like hot coals and certain ponies would second guess their stance against eternal night.

And for some reason, Scootaloo had chosen today of all days to take up Rainbow Dash's offer. She didn't even have a reason. She had simply woken up, decided to try to hang out with Rainbow Dash, and made a beeline for downtown Ponyville.

Despite the weather, the marketplace was fairly busy. Loud conversations filled the air. Amidst the cacophony, Scootaloo made out the booming and rustic voice she had been keeping her ears perked for.

"Apples! Get yer juicy red apples here!"

Scootaloo turned and headed toward the voice. Applejack's stand was set up like it always was: counter covered in apples, tarts, pies, and many more apple products. Applejack noticed Scootaloo, and an honest smile spread on her face.

"Howdy, Scootaloo," Applejack said, taking her stetson off and wiping her brow. "Hoo boy, this weather is killer..."

"Tell me about it," Scootaloo replied as she glanced at the sky once more. _Nope, still no sign of Rainbow Dash._

"Ya lookin' for Apple Bloom?" Applejack said. "Well, I'm 'fraid she ain't in the clouds. Heh heh." Scootaloo simply stared at her blankly. Clearing her throat, Applejack continued, "She ain't here, either. She's back at the farm."

"I'm not looking for Apple Bloom." The words came out a bit rougher than Scootaloo had hoped, and she looked up at Applejack with what she hoped looked like an innocent and apologetic grin. "No, I'm actually looking for Rainbow Dash."

"Ya don't say?" Applejack frowned slightly and tapped her hoof on her chin. "I think I saw her fly by here half an hour ago. In quite a hurry, I might add. I think she—" Applejack glanced over at a middle-aged unicorn mare meticulously examining an assortment of tarts. "Uh, hold on a sec."

Applejack started to barter with her potential customer, and Scootaloo shifted her attention to her own hooves. She kicked at pebbles on the ground, then her own hooves, all the while worrying that the day would end in disaster

She had no reason to doubt Rainbow Dash's promise; she was the embodiment of loyalty after all. Not to mention the embodiment of cool, and there was nothing cool about backing out on a promise. No, she supposed that her doubts were just hot air, blowing a worried wind through her head.

Still, Dash had never shown much interest in her in the past. Sure, they got along, and would even hang out from time to time, but those times usually sprung from Scootaloo chasing Dash around everywhere and not giving her a centimeter space. Rainbow Dash had to agree to let her tag along simply so she could have room to breathe. It had never gone the other way around. Not until now, at least.

_Probably just feeling sorry for me,_ Scootaloo grumbled inwardly. She hoped that wasn't the case, but all signs pointed towards it. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. If Rainbow Dash helped out a "poor little filly" like her, then her standing in town would rise. By the time all was said and done, helping Scootaloo out might just wash away her past braggartry once and for all.

_No_. Scootaloo shook her head. _No, Dash's above that._

"There's that taken care of," a voice cut through the air like a knife. "So anyway, Scoots, as you were—uh, Scootaloo? Ya alright?"

Scootaloo looked up, noticing that Applejack had finished with her customer and now had every ounce of her gentle, concerned attention set on her. "Yeah," Scootaloo said. "Just thinking."

Applejack simply nodded, eyes not losing an ounce of their sympathetic glint.

"So, you said you saw Rainbow Dash. Where did she go? I need to talk with her," Scootaloo said.

Applejack leaned back, taken off guard by Scootaloo's sudden storm of words. She blinked a few times, looked around the market, then glanced at the sky. Then she looked back to Scootaloo, face contorted slightly. "Well, she was headin' in the direction of the library. I reckon you might find 'er there, though I wouldn't... Scootaloo?"

Scootaloo was already gone. All that remained was a cloud of dust and the distant cries of ponies, followed quickly by a squeaked apology.

Applejack sighed and wiped her brow with a foreleg. "Shoot! I swear, if that silly filly walks in on... shoot..." A long, heavy silence filled the air around the cart for a moment before Applejack resumed her call.

"Apples! Red juicy apples here! Eat 'em straight or put 'em in a pie. Good ta bake, good to fry. For a meal or on the fly. Apples! Get your apples here!"

* * *

><p>The air around the library was the same as it ever was: stagnant and dull. Though it was only a few meters from the hustle and bustle of Ponyville's market, it might as well have been countries away, separated from anything resembling exciting by mountains and seas. Scootaloo couldn't understand why Rainbow Dash would want to come here. If the library was on fire or being attacked by a fifty-story tall troll then maybe Scootaloo could understand Dash being there, but now? Not in a million years. It was as if the Wonderbolts retired from stunt flying and took up ballet. It just felt wrong.<p>

Voices became apparent as Scootaloo neared the door. She couldn't understand a word they were saying, but there was definitely a conversation going on. Rainbow Dash's voice was unmistakable, even when muffled by the wooden door, and the other was most definitely Twilight Sparkle's. The voice had that ring of somepony who was smart and knew it and had no qualms with expressing it.

Scootaloo turned the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. She pushed and pulled and jiggled but the door remained nestled in its frame. All the while the conversation continued, seemingly unaware of the filly trying to fight her way in.

Groaning loudly, Scootaloo knocked on the door. After that proved to be as ineffective as the others, she reared back her foreleg and wailed away at the door: three knocks, each one shaking the windowpanes.

The quiet back and forth fell flat. There was a prolonged silence before the sound of hooves on floorboard rang out, growing louder with each clop.

The door opened with a burst of purple light. Twilight glared out, looking above Scootaloo's head.

"Can't you see that we're closed!" she said, thrusting a hoof at a sign Scootaloo hadn't noticed before.

_"Out to lunch: Will return in thirty minutes."_

"My bad," Scootaloo mumbled, ears folded back.

Twilight looked down at her and the glare softened. "Oh, Scootaloo, I didn't see you down there." She cocked her head to the side. "What are you doing here?"

Scootaloo shrugged, looking behind Twilight. "Just looking for..." Her voice trailed off when she noticed Rainbow Dash sitting at the reading table in the library, leaning her chair back on its back legs, a book in one hoof and a half-eaten daisy sandwich in the other.

"Who is it, Twi?" Dash said without looking up from her book. Before Twilight could answer, she continued, "Tell 'em to get lost and get your flank back over here." She looked up at Twilight, smiling slyly. "We've still got some re—Scootaloo!" Rainbow Dash's eyes widened and her chair toppled backward, sending a miniature avalanche of books raining down upon her. Luckily for Dash, she had been sitting near the paperback section, and the only thing injured was her pride. She rose out from under the pile and hovered toward the door. Scootaloo noticed that her face was slightly pale and her eyes darted rapidly between her and Twilight, lingering on the unicorn a few seconds longer than the filly. Scootaloo wondered what she had just walked in on: her guesses ranged from giggle-worthy to gag-inducing.

"Heya, Scoots. What's up?" Rainbow Dash said, smiling a bit too widely.

"I was wondering if I could... you know, that offer you made. About talking to you when I felt like I needed to. But, you seem kinda busy, so..." Scootaloo drifted off as her eyes locked onto Twilight's, who had been slowly retreating towards the reading table. The unicorn stopped at the mention of "busy" and a vibrant shade of red appeared beneath her purple face. Scootaloo didn't want to know.

"So," Scootaloo continued, "the offer still stands, right? I know it was a couple of weeks ago, but... I really could—"

"Chillax, squirt," Dash chuckled, silencing Scootaloo with a hoof over the mouth. "'Course we can still hang." She paused and glanced over at Twilight and frowned for a brief moment. Then she turned back to Scootaloo, her eyes alight and an all-natural grin spread across her face. "Hay, we can hang right now! How's that sound?"

Scootaloo looked over at Twilight and noticed her ears droop slightly at the announcement, though she made sure a small smile remained on her face. Now Scootaloo was starting to feel kind of bad. But only a _little_ bit bad. After all, how often did she get the chance to truly hang out with Dash?

"That sounds pretty cool," Scootaloo said, trying her best to keep her composure. Still, a giggle was able to sneak through. It was only a little one, but it was enough to cause Scootaloo to flush in embarrassment and kick herself. _Stop actin' like such a dork, ya loser._

Rainbow Dash simply laughed and patted the top of Scootaloo's head, rustling her mane. As she pulled her hoof away, she froze. She tilted her head and narrowed her gaze, looking at Scootaloo as if she were a blank canvas. "Hmm... I think that suits you, what do you think Twi?"

"Huh?" two voices called out at once.

After a pause that seemed to drag on for an eternity, Twilight broke the silence. "It looks nice," she said simply.

"What?" Scootaloo asked, still befuddled. She looked around for an answer—at her hooves, Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, the arms of the chair, the books, and many other things—before finally finding the answer in a nearby mirror.

Her mane was a disheveled, spiked mess. She grunted; this was what she got for not washing her mane in almost a week. Rainbow Dash chortled merrily and Twilight laughed a little herself, though not with the same enthusiasm.

"Ha ha, very funny," Scootaloo said as she flattened her mane with her hooves.

The laughter died out right as Scootaloo finished brushing her mane down. She looked at it in the mirror, then tussled it just a bit. After all, if she was hanging out with Rainbow Dash, she had to look cool while doing so. She looked at Dash with an eager, goofy grin. "Ready to go?"

Dash sighed and looked over at Twilight, who nodded and gave a small smile. Rainbow Dash sighed again.

"Wait for me outside," she said. "I'll be out in a minute."

Scootaloo nodded and walked outside, back into the steaming sun and simmering silence.

She sat on the steps and waited and thought, though she couldn't think of much to ponder. There were a few thoughts shining at the edge of her mind—at the moment they concerned with answering 'why' Rainbow Dash had been at the library and reading and seeming to be enjoying it—but they were just theories produced by her imagination. She kicked them to the curb and decided to pass the time by watching the clouds—counting how many there were and what shapes she could read into them. Then she remembered that it was a 'clear sky' day, and moved on to scratching away at the peeling paint on the railing.

She didn't have to entertain herself for long. Rainbow Dash came cantering out the door before she could get the first chip scraped away, raising herself into a hover as soon as she had cleared the doorframe.

"Up and at 'em, Scoots," she said. "You got your scooter with you?"

"Yeah," Scootaloo said. "I've got it right here."

"Awesome! Put your helmet on and get ready."

"Why?"

Rainbow Dash gave a toothy grin. "Because we're gonna have ourselves a little race."

"A ra-ra-r wha' huh?" Scootaloo stuttered, her tongue suddenly like a worm trying to wriggle away from a bird.

"A. Race," Dash repeatedl. "Now get off your haunches and get your helmet on. We're wasting daylight."

Scootaloo happily obliged, an awe-struck grin never leaving her face. A race. With Rainbow Dash. She doubted today was going to be anything short of the best day ever.

She tightened the strap on her helmet, placed her hooves on the bars, and looked up at Rainbow Dash through narrow eyes. "Where to?"

"Hm..." Dash tapped her chin and looked around her. "Entrance of Sweet Apple Acres."

Scootaloo snorted. "Really? That's, like, close as close can get. I could throw a stick here, with my tail, and get it _past _Sweet Apple Acres."

"Sure, kid, sure." Dash knocked on Scootaloo's helmet with her hoof. "Well, let's get this started."

Scootaloo said nothing. A quick fluttering of her wings was enough of a response. Rainbow Dash smiled at her gesture and lowered herself to the ground, kneeling into a starting position.

"On the count of three," Rainbow Dash said. "One... two..."

"THREE!" Scootaloo cried out and shot off, leaving a slack-jawed, wide-eyed Rainbow Dash in her wake. Dash shook her head, chuckled lightly, and shot after her. They were neck and neck within seconds, Scootaloo hunched over the handlebars, teeth gritted, while Rainbow Dash glided with her back towards the ground, forelegs wrapped behind her head as if they were a pillow.

Scootaloo noticed this and glowered, swerving her scooter to the right. Rainbow Dash narrowly avoided the mass of wood, orange feathers, and annoyance. She got back into her normal flying position and glared at Scootaloo, though a smile remained on her lips—a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Watch it, kid," Dash said. "You get too cocky here, and I might actually start trying."

Scootaloo lifted a foreleg and motioned for Dash to "bring it."

Rainbow Dash laughed. "Oh, it is on."

With that she sped off, leaving Scootaloo in a trail of dust. The horseshoe was on the other hoof, and Scootaloo coughed and sputtered, slowing to a gentle roll as she leaned on the handlebars. As her scooter slowed, she became aware of the painful throbbing in her wings. They were barely flittering anymore as the muscles tensed against her will. There was a metallic taste in her mouth and her throat burned. Through watery eyes she could see Rainbow Dash's tail shrink from a polychromatic bunch to a tiny dot in the blink of an eye. She growled and revved up her wings once more, ignoring the pain, then shot down the path: an orange streak of light swerving between hapless shoppers.

* * *

><p>She reached Sweet Apple Acres a dank, panting mess. Her muscles hated her for it, but she had made it. In the end, that was all that mattered. She rolled her way over to the nearest tree, got off her scooter, and immediately flopped down on the ground, face planted in the grass. Everything hurt, even her legs, and she hadn't even used them! For a split second she thought about curling up right there, underneath the apple tree, and simply ceasing to be. At least it was cool here. At least it felt nice.<p>

A loud yawn roused her from her thoughts. Scootaloo groaned and rolled onto her back, her wings screaming out in protest. Once she saw who it was she rolled her eyes.

"Thought you'd never show up," Rainbow Dash said, stretching out her forelegs. "I was having a good nap, too."

"Nap sounds like a good idea," Scootaloo mumbled, closing her eyes. There was a light breeze blowing through the orchard—there almost always was one—and, the breeze and her panting aside, there was nary a sound. Even Rainbow Dash was considerably quieter, not even attempting a retort.

"I hear ya there, squirt," she said calmly after a long pause.

The sound of the wind in the trees was like a lullaby: eternally in key and forever serene. Scootaloo never thought that a sound could cool her off—she wasn't an egghead by any stretch of the word, but even she knew that such a theory was ridiculous. And yet, there was something about the sound. Or maybe it was the air and the sound was the only thing her weary mind could comprehend.

Or maybe it was the atmosphere. The moment in itself. There she lay, in the shade of a tree, surrounded by tranquil farmland, with her longtime idol and newfound friend resting above her, cracking jokes as if they had been best friends for years. It was simply a slice of heaven, no doubt about it.

And for the first time in a long time, Scootaloo felt a true, unforced smile tug on her lips. No pangs in her chest. No lumps in her throat. Just her, the breeze, and Rainbow Dash, loudly snoring on the branch above her.

_This is the life,_ was the last thought to pass through her mind before she carelessly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>She was trembling when she awoke. At first she thought it was simply the train bouncing along the rails. The lancinating pain in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. She moaned and clutched her head. It felt like an angry cat was using her brain as a scratching post. A paperthin line of moisture trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away, hoping nopony had noticed it.<p>

Scootaloo had been dreaming. And it had been a peaceful dream. A dream populated with happy thoughts, calm feelings, and Rainbow Dash. A dream without shadowy creatures surrounded by an ashen, dead world, underscored by the cacophony of a thousand imps. No, it had been a memory of one of the happiest moments in her life.

And those were the worst dreams of all.

It was around this time that she became aware of the weight pressing against her side, shifting and turning and... _muttering_?

She looked over and noticed that Sweetie Belle was leaning against her, head propped against her shoulder, using it as a pillow. A single line of drool hung out the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were half-lidded and glassy—it was clear that she wasn't "all there" at the moment. Glancing out the window, Scootaloo noticed her reflection in the dark pane. She could see the moon up above her, hazy behind a layer of clouds. How long had she been asleep? When had she fallen asleep, anyway? She didn't remember laying down or closing her eyes or anything. She just remembered reading, then dreaming, then waking up in a cold sweat. Scootaloo shivered at the memory.

"Scoot..." Sweetie Belle murmured, lifting her head off her shoulder and staring at her through tired eyes. "Scootaloo?" She yawned and stretched. Scootaloo noticed that Apple Bloom was also asleep, curled up in her seat like a dog in a basket.

Scootaloo looked over at her fatigued friend and forced a smirk. "Sleep well?"

"Shut it," Sweetie Belle grumbled as she tried to fix the chaotic mess of tangles that used to be her mane, using the dark window as a mirror. She pressed and prodded at the unruly curls, but they fought back valiantly. Eventually, she groaned and fell back in her chair, blowing the curls out of her eyes as she sighed loudly. For a long while silence overtook the two and the only sound was the infernally incessant rattling of metal. Scootaloo was vaguely aware that Sweetie Belle was staring at her, choosing to focus on the matter at hoof... whatever that might have been. Silence? Ignoring the dream? Good enough.

Unfortunately, to forget the dream she had to remember it, and the memory stirred up a brief cavalcade of emotions. Though the thought crossed her mind quickly, it lingered just long enough to poke her with a red-hot needle. Her eyes burned for a second, and she blinked and sniffled. Sweetie Belle noticed and had a gentle hoof on Scootaloo's shoulder immediately.

"Scoots?"

"I'm fine. Don't ask," Scootaloo cut in. "Please, just don't."

There was a long pause, then Sweetie Belle said, "Okay." Her voice was barely audible over the clanging of the train wheels. However, her hoof remained on Scootaloo's shoulder, unwavering. And then the silence took over: heavy and smog-like.

Scootaloo looked out the window and began to search for things to occupy her mind. The moon had come out from behind its cloudy veil and was now shining brightly down on an expansive field of corn stalks. At first she tried counting them, but that only gave her a headache. Then she noticed pony-shaped silhouettes hanging above the stalks: scarecrows, no doubt. She began to count them, first the amount overall, then—when that number proved too much—she counted the number of scarecrows the train passed between whistle blows. The most she reached was four. And then she got bored and simply stared off into space, thinking about nopony and nothing in particular.

All the while, Sweetie Belle's hoof never left her shoulder.

"Hey," Scootaloo suddenly said, not taking her eyes off the window. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure," Sweetie Belle replied. "What?"

"How'd you know what tickets to buy?"

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"The tickets," she repeated. "You bought tickets to Vanhoover, and we're supposed to be going to Vanhoover." Scootaloo paused to sigh. "I didn't even know exactly where we were supposed to go until we got on this thing."

"But you were going to hop aboard it?" Sweetie Belle's face held a look of utter confusion.

"Yeah, but that was just... I don't know. I was just guessing, honestly. Hop on the train west and hope that it took me where I wanted."

"Well, then," Sweetie Belle said, "it was just a lucky guess."

"I doubt that."

"Why?"

"Because we stopped at a few stations on the way here?"

"And how do you know that? You were asleep."

Because," Scootaloo said with a cheeky grin, "you just told me."

"No you... I..." Sweetie Belle sighed and lowered her head. "You got me."

"Ha! I win," Scootaloo chuckled. "What's my prize?"

After a long pause during which Sweetie Belle never even looked up, Scootaloo spoke, "So you read the book?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. How much of it?"

"Half."

"When?"

"At the library, the day you left. Right after we left the clubhouse. I got back to the boutique and it was locked, so... yeah."

"Jeez! How long did that take?"

"About an hour." Sweetie Belle's voice had receded to a murmur.

Scootaloo burst into quiet giggles. "You're such an egghead," she squeaked.

Her joy quickly vanished when she noticed that Sweetie Belle was not returning the smile. In fact, she looked upset to the point of tears.

"Come on, Sweetie," she said. "So you read the book. Don't see why that's something to be embarrassed over."

"Well," Sweetie Belle raised her forelegs, "you just said it!"

"What?"

Sweetie Belle groaned and covered her face. "You called me an egghead!"

"Huh? I thought you'd like being called that."

Sweetie Belle shook her head, staring at her through quivering eyes.

"Guess not. Look..." Scootaloo rubbed the back of her head. "I was just joking around. I mean, I don't see why you have such a problem with it. Da—" She cut herself off. The utterance of the name always burned her throat, and she knew that this time would be no different. "There's nothing wrong with being an 'egghead.'"

"Really?" For some reason, Sweetie Belle suddenly looked hopeful. "I thought you'd make fun of me or not like me or something." She paused, then hastily added, "Something silly..."

"No, no," Scootaloo said. "What makes you think I wouldn't like you? Why does it matter what I think?"

"Because I..." She groaned. "Look, why are we even having this conversation?!"

Why were they having this conversation? A distraction? A way of passing the time? It was probably a mixture of both, but Scootaloo was sure that the former was the main cause. Talking distracted her, and that was all she was looking for: something to cease the shakes and numb her heart.

Scootaloo shrugged. "Just trying to pass the time."

"Then why are we talking about books and..." Sweetie Belle drifted off and narrowed her eyes. Scootaloo could have sworn she saw the vein in Sweetie Belle's head thumping away, protruding, but then again that might have just been the lighting. "Whatever the hay else?!" Sweetie Belle finished with a loud squeak. She threw her hooves over her mouth.

Across from them, Apple Bloom stirred in her sleep, though her eyes remained closed and her mind, as far as they could tell, remained firmly implanted in slumberland. Scootaloo waited until she started snoring again before she released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Then she began to think again, gaze drifting back out the window. There was a hint of orange on the horizon. She must have slept far longer than she thought.

She had to admit that Sweetie Belle raised a good point, though not in the way the unicorn likely thought. Why was she talking about the 'book?' She had opened her mind up to memories of Rainbow Dash, and that had nearly sent her into a panic attack. Instead of talking about the book—something Scootaloo considered to be a piece of Rainbow Dash—she should be talking about things that would move her mind away. You don't forget a stab wound by jamming your hoof in it, and you don't forget the dead by discussing the things they used to cherish.

She should've been discussing something like what kind of mascara to wear around a colt she liked, or what her favorite colt band was—and subsequently, which member she thought was the 'cutest.' Those would be good discussion pieces because they were so _not_ Rainbow Dash. They wouldn't trigger anything. But, at the same time, they weren't her either; Scootaloo had no interests in these topics, nor did she have much knowledge of them at all. A conversation about those topics would be like a quantum physicist trying to explain interdimensional travel to a cockroach; it would only lead to frustration on both sides.

So she chose silence.

"I don't know," Scootaloo said before leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. She knew she wasn't going to fall asleep—the shakes and cold still tickled her coat—but that wasn't what she was looking for. Sure, sleep would have been nice, but she just wanted to meditate. Relax. Forget.

And 'forget' she could not do. She thought about a sunny day in a vast field, and Rainbow Dash performed a Sonic Rainboom on the other side. She thought about a dreary land, filled with gray clouds and dead trees, and Rainbow Dash came streaking by, a prismatic trail painting the murky sky behind her. She thought about her bedroom, and Dash tapped on her window and asked if she wanted to hang out and maybe have a race or two. She thought about an empty, silent void...

And Dash's voice echoed amidst the ringing in her ears.

Realizing that avoidance was nigh impossible, Scootaloo shut her mind off entirely. Minutes and kilometers rolled past like gusts of wind on a mountain peak, and she didn't notice them. The train whistle wailed and luggage fell off seats and racks, and Scootaloo didn't hear them. Her seat rattled and her body bounced, yet she didn't feel it. It wasn't solace, but it would have to do.

Scootaloo didn't know how long she had drifted off for when Sweetie Belle started to shake her—it must have been an hour or two at least. It took a couple dozen shakes and a few harsh whispers in her ear, but Sweetie Belle eventually roused her from her rumination. Scootaloo's eyes immediately set into a glare once they readjusted to the light.

_Light?!_

Indeed, the sun had risen at some point, and the world outside the window had transitioned from an opaque wasteland to a vibrant forest. Cedar and birch flanked the tracks and the sky was a dark shade of blue. Clear, save for a few wisps of cirrus. Off in the distance, barely peeking over the treetops, were the peaks of numerous mountains, surrounded by spindly clouds. She had to admit that it was rather beautiful.

Then she noticed that Sweetie Belle wasn't even looking out the window. Or at least, not the window she was looking out of. Sweetie was staring past Scootaloo, her mouth agape and eyes shining. Scootaloo looked over and noticed that Apple Bloom was peering out the same window—chin resting on the armrest of her chair—and bore the same expression. _When did she wake up?_ Scootaloo wondered for a second before the thought drifted away unanswered. Curious as to what all the fuss was about, Scootaloo turned her head.

Her jaw dropped.

On the opposite bank of a sapphire blue bay stood a dazzling city. Skyscrapers, larger than the ones in Canterlot, stretched out for kilometers in all directions, their crystal-clear spires seeming to reach up and touch the sun itself. Bridges stretched out like concrete limbs, snaking their way through the metal junglegym. The wide vista before her was framed by a gorgeous backdrop of mountains that seemed to loom over and dwarf the skyscrapers. For a second, Scootaloo wondered what it would feel like to climb those mountains, then jump off them and glide down through the streets. It would probably be a great feeling.

Too bad she would never feel it.

She swallowed and mentally kicked herself. _Don't think like that!_ she inwardly roared. _Now's not the time._

The train shook her body and she shook the thoughts from her mind, focusing her attention on the city before her. Though she had never seen the city—nor had she heard a description of what it looked like—Scootaloo was one-hundred and one percent sure that it was Vanhoover.

"Wow," Apple Bloom said, her voice a quiet gasp.

Scootaloo nodded.

* * *

><p>The first thought to cross Scootaloo's mind as they walked out of the train station and into the marketplace was, <em>Is Princess Celestia in town?<em>

It wasn't a strange thought to have; the streets were absolutely crammed with ponies, shoulder-to-shoulder, bumping against each other as they made their way towards their destinations. As they marched, they stirred up a cacophony of cries and curses that seemed to grow louder by the second: starting with ear-splitting and working their way up to a ruckus that could shake and shatter the stars themselves.

Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom stood at the top of the station steps for what felt like hours, staring down at the chaos strewn out before them. Though none of them said a word, Scootaloo had a feeling that they were all thinking the same thing.

_What the hay do we do now?_

Before the thought could even be expressed in words, a rush of ponies streamed out of the station doors behind them. At first, the wave of ponies flowed around the paralyzed Crusaders, but it didn't take long for the awareness to cease, and Scootaloo soon found herself being practically shoved down the stairs by an unruly stallion with a suit and slick-backed blonde mane.

At the bottom of the stairs, Scootaloo made a hard right and scurried to a quiet spot between the stairs and the station wall. Her friends seemed to have the same idea, and they found themselves reunited in a corner, watching a seemingly endless swarm rush by.

Scootaloo sighed and looked around her. The merchant stands that littered the square were nearly as big as some of the houses in Ponyville. There were no trees or grass or green to be seen. Long, wide shadows fell upon the ground and stands, covering everypony in a veil of black. She looked at her friends and smirked as she noticed them both staring up at the surrounding buildings, eyes wide as dinner plates and knees shaking slightly.

"Pretty crazy, huh?" she said. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom nodded simultaneously.

"So," Apple Bloom said. "What now?"

"Well, first we—" Scootaloo stopped, every blood cell freezing at once. "Wait... what did you say?"

"I said," Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow, "what now? Is that a problem? What, do I have something between my teeth? What's the matter?"

Scootaloo backed away, mouth moving wordlessly and foreleg raised, pointed in accusation. "You," she stuttered out. "Back in... wherever we were, you said that you were trying to take me back to Ponyville."

Apple Bloom shrugged. "Yeah. And?"

"_And?_" Scootaloo exclaimed, voice cracking. "What's up with you suddenly wanting to help?! 'What now?' What the hay?"

"Scoots, chill. You're makin' a scene," Apple Bloom said through gritted teeth.

Scootaloo ceased her rampage and looked around. Sure enough, a few ponies had turned to look in their direction. Some wore looks of concern, some wore looks of anger, and some just stared blankly.

"Heh heh." Scootaloo forced a grin. Though it was far from her most convincing performance, it did the trick. Ponies went back to their shopping, and Scootaloo went back to her ranting, albeit quieter this time.

"Anyway," she said, "what I'm saying is... have you changed your mind all of a sudden or something?" She looked between her two friends. Sweetie Belle stared at the ground, pawing at the pavement. Meanwhile, Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her head with her hoof and sighed.

"While I can't say I'm a supporter of this or nothin'," she said flatly, "I also know ya well enough to know that nothin' I say is gonna make ya change yer mind. And I sure as hay ain't gonna let ya go wanderin' out into Celestia-knows-where by yourself. Alone, ya'd get killed." She stopped and smiled ever so slightly. "But with me... well, ya might just live."

Scootaloo began to laugh. Apple Bloom arched an eyebrow in confusion, then started to laugh along in the form of a nervous chuckle. After what had to have been a minute, Apple Bloom stopped, frowning.

"Uh, what's so funny?"

"You're serious?" Scootaloo said, wiping her eyes. "That's it? After all this arguing and fighting, you're just gonna change your mind like that?" She clopped her hoof on the ground.

Apple Bloom glowered. "What'cha mean, 'jus' like that?' Ya have no idea what goes on in here, Scoots." Apple Bloom tapped her head.

Scootaloo ignored her and glanced at Sweetie Belle. She was still pawing at the ground.

"Can you believe this crap, Sweetie Belle?" she shouted.

"I..." Sweetie Belle's voice was a quivering whisper. "I do."

"Oh Celestia... Really?!"

"Well, she told me on the train that—"

"And you believed her?"

"Yes, she did," Apple Bloom cut in, practically steaming with rage, "because it's the truth!"

"Yeah, and sugar's good for your teeth."

"Scoots, I sw—"

"Look, I know what this is," Scootaloo blurted. "I know this is all some kind of ruse. A trick to get me to go to Ponyville." She suddenly chuckled, eyes narrowing. "It all makes sense. You bought me the tickets so I'd owe you guys something. Heh. It makes so much sense."

"That's a buncha manure, Scoots. Did ya ever stop ta think that maybe I changed my dang mind?"

"Whatever," Scootaloo scoffed, waving a hoof in her direction, smacking the tip of her nose slightly. "Thanks for the tickets," she said as she started to trot away. "I'll see you guys around. Maybe."

"Ya think we ain't gonna follow you or somethin'?" Apple Bloom growled, stepping in front of the pegasus.

"Oh, I know you are," Scootaloo seethed. "And you're free to follow. I don't give a rat's ass what you do. Just stay outta my damn way, _murderer._" With that, she shoved past a very slack-jawed Apple Bloom, and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

><p>Regret sank in almost as soon as Scootaloo stormed off.<p>

"_Great job, Scooty. You finally get somepony willing to help you, and you insult them—practically spit in their face—and walk away. Why, that's just about the smartest decision I've ever seen."_ The sarcasm of her inner-voice dripped off the words like saliva off a dog's tongue in a kibbles factory.

_Shut it. You know that it's all some kind of setup. And don't call me 'Scooty.'_

"_Is it, Scooty? You don't know what they're thinking."_

_Maybe not, but I know that nopony does a one-eighty that quickly._

"_And you know that it was 'quick,' how?' Also, why the hay can't somepony change their mind just like that?"_

_I... I don't..._

"_Wow... you really are a dumbass."_

_Shuddup._

"_And an asshole to boot. Calling Apple Bloom a 'murderer.' Discord himself wouldn't stoop that low."_

_The truth hurts. She killed Dash._

For a long while, Scootaloo's inner-voice was silent. She allowed herself to smirk: victory was hers.

She celebrated too soon.

"_So did you."_

Scootaloo shook her head, hoping that the rush of air would push the voice out. Around her, ponies briskly cantered by, bumping into her and generally ignoring her inner turmoil. She was just glad that the argument hadn't been aloud; then she would really have drawn attention.

She grunted, shaking her head once more. The now was what was important, and it was what she needed to focus on. She moved closer to the stands and merchants, and scanned the goods laid out upon their countertops from a distance; a mountain-thick group of ponies keeping her from getting close enough to touch.

The stalls she was able to get close enough to stop at proved to be dead ends; not one of them had what she was looking for. If she had needed a custom buffalo tribe necklace or a clay pot with her name on it, she would have been in the right place. However, she wasn't looking for that. She was looking for actual survival gear: blankets, food, matches, purified water—or at least something that would do that for her—a book on what types of plants and berries she could and couldn't eat, the list went on ad nauseum. And all she could find were knick-knacks.

There was one bright spot amidst the dreariness. She stumbled upon an information kiosk near the edge of the square that was giving out free maps of both the local and world variety. Scootaloo took as many as she could stuff in her saddlebags (better safe than sorry), as well as a few coupons for local tour groups and hotels.

The meager two bits in her coin purse were feeling really light right about now. _Maybe I should have taken all of 'em_. The thought made her shudder, but for some reason it didn't make her feel bad. At the end of the day, the result was all that mattered. If she had to steal a hundred bits to get Rainbow Dash back...

"_Yes, that's a great mentality to have, Scooty. Absolutely charming. I'm sure whoever you steal money from won't mind it if they find out it's all so you could embark on fool's quest to bring back somepony they didn't know."_

Scootaloo bit her lip and glowered. The voice must be ignored. She cantered further down the road—a giant signpost said it was "Market Street" in shiny gold letters—looking out for a place that sold something other than dragon puppets or wood carvings of Princess Celestia. Luck was not on her side. It didn't make sense, a marketplace without the basic necessities. Then again, not much did.

She was walking past the "food court," trying to keep her mouth from watering, when she saw her through the sweet-smelling grey smoke. She stood in line at the pretzel stand and Scootaloo could only see her back, but her back was enough to stop her in her tracks and close her throat. Scootaloo's mouth hung open and she rubbed her eyes with her hooves, refusing to believe what she saw.

But even after countless blinks and a thousand mutterings of denial, the image stayed exactly the same.

While the mare lacked wings, the other similarities were undeniable. Her coat was the exact same shade of cyan Rainbow Dash's had been, and her mane, while definitely longer and more prim and proper, bore a striking resemblance to her idol's famous prismatic one. Even the cutie mark was similar: a rainbow stretched between two clouds. Just the sight of this mare sent a chill up Scootaloo's spine; she seemed so different, yet so familiar.

Scootaloo didn't even notice the voices approaching from behind her.

"There you are!" Sweetie Belle called out. She looked over her shoulder. "Apple Bloom! She's over here."

With a prolonged sigh, Sweetie Belle trotted around Scootaloo so that she was staring directly in her face. The expression she wore, from the narrowed eyes to the scrunched nose to the pursed lips, screamed 'angry.' Scootaloo didn't even notice it, leaning to the side so she could see the mysterious mare through Sweetie Belle's still-disheveled curls.

Sweetie Belle sighed and shook her head, moving to block Scootaloo's view. "What am I going to do with you?

Scootaloo said nothing, leaning a little farther to the right. Sweetie Belle moved her head a little farther to the left.

"Why do you keep trying to run away?" she asked. "Huh? Why don't you want us to help you?"

Silence once again as Scootaloo suddenly shifted to the left. Sweetie Belle didn't follow this time.

"Seriously, Scoots?" She moved her head in front of Scootaloo's again, nose rammed against her's and eyes alight with frustration. "Pay attention. I just want to know why—" Sweetie Belle ceased as Scootaloo practically pushed around her. She gritted her teeth. "Seriously?! Just what—" Sweetie swung her head around. "—the hay... are... you... woah..."

The silence infected the air around them. The clamor of the streets faded out, as if somepony had turned the volume knob down. For a long while, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle just stared. Then Apple Bloom came trudging up.

"Scoots, ya need to learn that you can't outrun the Bloo—What they hay are y'all gawkin' at?" She squinted and stared, then straightened and squeaked.

By this time, the mare had finished making her purchase, and started down the street, passing by the three gaping fillies. Scootaloo was the first to regain her composure, and she trotted off after the mare before Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had picked their jaws up off the ground.

She followed her down streets and through alleyways, up stairs and down steep slopes. Her hooves touched just about every surface imaginable: from grass to cobblestone to pavement to mud. The clopping sound behind her told her that Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were tailing her, and for once she didn't care.

The meters turned to kilometers, and Scootaloo's aching knees made it feel like megameters were fast approaching. Her saddlebags were wearing her down—maybe she should have only taken ten maps. She had to admit the fatigue embarrassed her; she was Scootaloo, most awesomely athletic filly in Equestria. She wasn't supposed to get winded by a brisk stroll.

Finally, after what must have been at least an hour of walking, the mare turned down one last street, and into a pink building. Its exterior was considerably cleaner than the derelict shops that surrounded it. The building right next to it was boarded up, the only sign it had ever been occupied being a faded sign with a pink paintbrush and blue swirls hanging by a single nail over the door. Scootaloo could make out a "T" and an "R," but aside from that, the building remained a mystery.

The building the mare had entered stood out like a sore wing. Along with its bright pink exterior, it also had vibrant green doors and window frames, and a gold heart surrounded by a large red bow hung above the door. A single word was inscribed in golden paint on a wooden sign that hung to the left of the door, between the doorframe and a large bay window. "Beauty."

Scootaloo stood in front of the door, staring up at its gold knob with through wide eyes. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were beside her before her heart calmed to its normal rhythm. They didn't have to do much chasing this time.

"So, uh..." Apple Bloom broke the silence. "Why the hay'd we follow this pony?"

"I just followed Scoots," Sweetie Belle said, heavy breaths nearly blocking her words.

There was a pause—the only sounds in the air being ragged breathing and the distant rattle of a trestle—before Apple Bloom finally said, "What're we doin' here, Scoots? Why'd ya chase after that there mare?"

"_Chasing ghosts. Catching crazy."_ The voice returned full force. Scootaloo had to shove it out of her frame of mind.

She turned and looked each of her friends dead in the eyes, holding contact for uncomfortably long, eyes expressing only one expression: nothing. And then, without so much as a grunt, she reached out and pushed on the door. She didn't even have to turn the knob; it swung open with ease. Before Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom could stop her, she was through the door.

The inside of the building was just as nausea-inducing as the outside. Its walls were green, with stars, rainbows, and clouds painted near the top. To make things worse, the floor was covered from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, in gaudy dresses, fashionable bows, rack after rack of too-large, lavishly decorated hats, covered in flowers and Celestia knows what else. Even the tables and chairs reeked of class and familiarity. It was a strange aura Scootaloo likened to that of Carousel Boutique. Still, it wasn't the atmosphere she expected.

"Hello?" said the unseen mare. Scootaloo noticed a rack of dresses start to shiver, and the mare popped out. "Can I help you?" It took all of Scootaloo's effort to keep her mouth closed.

From the front, she got a better look at the mare. The mane definitely had a rainbow-like quality—consisting of nearly every color in the spectrum—but there was a lot more pink and a lot less blue than she had originally thought. It hung over her shoulders in waves, the smell of manespray apparent from the other side of the room. Her muzzle protruded more than she was used to—she guessed it was a Vanhoover thing—and her eyes were of a more ovalish shape. However, it was also her eyes that made Scootaloo's legs shake.

They were rose. The exact same color Dash's had been.

"Oh my," the mare gasped. "Darlings, you look absolutely terrible."

_Huh?_

Scootaloo looked behind her and saw that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had followed her inside. No surprise there. What was a surprise was how filthy they were: messy manes, mud-stained coats, dark rings around their eyes, and so on. Scootaloo doubted she looked much better.

By the time Scootaloo turned around, the mare was already on them like a mother coming to the aid of her foal after they'd just taken a nasty fall off their scooter. Her mouth was drawn in a wide frown and eyes radiated with concern. A look hauntingly familiar to Scootaloo.

"My goodness. You three are filthy." She lifted her hoof to Sweetie Belle's mane and ran it through her tangled curls. "If I didn't know any better," she said as she moved in front of Scootaloo, radiant eyes scanning every centimeter of her body with equal parts sympathy and disgust, "I'd say you three had just spent a year in the woods."

"Well, it wasn't quite a year," Apple Bloom muttered.

"I beg your pardon? Could you repeat that, dearie?"

"No, it was..." Apple Bloom drifted off as the mare started messing with her bow. "It's nothin'. Just talkin' ta hear myself talk."

For a long while, the mare looked them over, shaking her head and clicking her tongue and sighing without end. Eventually, without thinking, Scootaloo spoke.

"Rainbow?"

The mare tilted her head and frowned. "Yes?" There was a loud gasp. Scootaloo covered her hooves with her mouth as the mare tilted her head. "Do I know you?" she asked.

Scootaloo's lungs seized up. "N-no," she managed to stutter out.

"Now, I must ask," Rainbow said, "where are you fillies from? I swear, in all my years I don't think I've ever seen three poor ponies in such a petrifying state of uncouthness." Sweetie Belle shuddered at the last word.

The voice in Scootaloo's head whispered.

"Um," Apple Bloom murmured. "We're... uh—"

"Orphans!" Scootaloo spoke up suddenly. Apple Bloom tilted her head and narrowed her eyes into slits of umbrage. Sweetie Belle simply looked confused. Rainbow, however, placed a hoof over her heart, her eyes misting up. Scootaloo could tell that she'd struck the right chord, playing her heartstrings like a thespian, and continued her lie.

"Yeah, we're orphans from the, uh, Vanhoover Orphanage for... uh, Orphans? Yeah, that's it! We ran away from there because the Headmistress was beating us, and, uh, cutting back on our food, and not allowing us to bathe. Oh! It was terrible. Terrible! So, we got away from there. Nopony seemed to want messy little ponies like us. We had no other choice."

Once she was done with her improvised speech, Scootaloo glanced at her flank. It had been a horrible performance, but you never know._ There could be a cutie mark for being a bad actor_, she told herself. However, her flank was just as bare as ever, save for a thin layer of mud.

She looked at the other ponies, expecting to see three unconvinced, perplexed faces: she was almost correct.

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. Sweetie Belle muttered, "Huh?!" But Rainbow...

Tears streamed down her face in buckets, and her hoof shook in front of her whimpering lips. Without warning, she bent down and hugged Scootaloo. Her muscles were weak and her coat felt clean and her mane smelled of beauty products. And yet, despite these vast differences, Scootaloo couldn't help but feel a connection between the Rainbows. She'd lie later and say that her eyes were watering up due to the fragrance of the mare's perfume, but the tears forming in Scootaloo's eyes at that moment were genuine, and she had no idea why.

"Oh, you poor little darlings," Rainbow cried. Before this, Scootaloo hadn't noticed the very sophisticated accent of the mare, but now it was the only thing she could focus on. It reminded her of a voice from her past, just not one she expected.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, voice cracking under the weight of her overdramatics. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. She released Scootaloo from her tender chokehold and stood up straight. "Oh, I know just the thing. I could clean you girls up. Right here and now, no charge." She chortled. "Oh, nopony will be able to resist you dearies once I'm done with you."

"Um, thanks?" Sweetie Belle said, finally breaking her trance. "You don't have to Rari—I mean, Miss Rainbow. Really, we're fi—"

"Nonsense. A clean filly is a happy filly." Apple Bloom rolled her eyes, then set them on Scootaloo in a never-ceasing glare of undiluted rage.

"Well, so long as you're being generous," Scootaloo jumped in. "We don't really have any bits with us, or a place to stay... or f-food." Scootaloo was proud of the little voice tremble she was able to work up. Maybe acting was in her future after all. "So... if... y-you could... maybe... if you're..."

"Why, of course, darling. I'm afraid I don't have a guest room per se, but the couch over there," she motioned to a red sofa, covered in polyester and linen pillows, "folds out into a bed if you need it."

Scootaloo nodded. "That's more than enough."

"Splendid, just splendid." The chirp in Rainbow's voice made the fillies flinch and squirm. "Now, the first thing you three should do is clean up. While I have no qualms with helping those in need—especially three fillies as precious as you—I'd much prefer that my carpet stay clear of mud and blood and whatnot." She smiled. "You are in luck, though. I just so happen to have a rather spacious bath upstairs, as well as any shampoo and conditioner you can dream of." Scootaloo and Apple Bloom shivered, while Sweetie Belle's eyes lit up ever so slightly.

Silence held a short reign as the four ponies glanced between each other. Finally, Sweetie Belle started to walk towards the stairs, and Scootaloo and Apple Bloom quickly followed suit.

"Thank you so much, Miss. Rainbow," Sweetie Belle said with a sweet smile. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo nodded in agreement.

"Oh, it's nothing," Rainbow said, flushing slightly. "I'm always willing to help out those in need."

As they climbed the stairs, Rainbow called out one last time.

"And please," she piped, "call me Rainbow Dash. All my friends do."

* * *

><p>The bathroom was all marble and gold. From the basin of the sink to the washcloth racks, every centimeter was an astonishing display of class. Even the tiles of the floor were absolutely exquisite: immaculate and cool to the touch. On the opposite end of the temperature spectrum, warm water filled the tub, covering the bathroom in a thick and steamy haze.<p>

In the tub sat Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Sweetie Belle, each in their own states of perplexity.

Sweetie Belle held two bottles of conditioner in front of her, gaze shifting from one to the other, eyes squinting, then opening, and then squinting again. Occasionally, she'd move one bottle back towards the shelf she had picked it up from, but would quickly jerk it back in front of her, mind obviously changed. All the while, she hummed a tune: unsure and not really following a structure, yet melodic all the same.

Apple Bloom leaned back against the side, forelegs and head resting on its lip. She stared at the ceiling, gaze narrowed as if she were studying every centimeter of the ceiling, amazed by the way it was laid out or searching for flaws in its design.

Water splashed in Sweetie Belle's face as Apple Bloom kicked against the surface of the water, sending bubbles floating through the air and inciting giggles from two of the three. Sweetie Belle had discovered the bubble bath when she accidentally knocked an open vial into the tub. Compared to some of the other mistakes they had made in the past, this one was welcoming. Sweetie Belle watched a bubble loop-the-loop through the air towards her, and popped it with her horn when it got too close. She giggled gaily. A second later Apple Bloom joined in, her laugh a rapid chortle.

Scootaloo sat with her back corner of the tub—or rather, the closest thing to a corner—and stared blankly. Her thoughts were nothing but white noise and her eyes focused on nothing. She hadn't moved since she got in the tub. Rainbow's reveal—or should she call her 'Rainbow Dash' now—had shocked her to the point of paralysis. A lot of ponies looked the same—Scootaloo had even encountered other prismatic ponies in her past. Only two or three, but other one's nonetheless. However, those ponies hadn't gone by "Rainbow Dash."

"_Look, loco in the coco. Scootalunatic. You need to just calm down and stop jumping to bullshit conclusions and making assumptions as if they're in style. She looks similar and she goes by Rainbow Dash. That's it. It doesn't mean jack. You killed Rainbow Dash. She ain't coming back. 'Specially not like that."_

While she tried her best to ignore it—let it sling its insults through one of her ears and out the other—the voice still managed to strike a nerve and brought forth a wave of nausea, but she didn't throw her hooves in front of her mouth. She simply let it come and pass, and it slowly moved away like the past. The brief bout had brought some sense back to her, and she noticed that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were looking at her.

"Uh... hi?"

Apple Bloom shook her head and turned away.

"What?" Scootaloo asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"Can't believe ya," Apple Bloom groused, still looking the other way.

"What?" Scootaloo repeated.

"Really? 'Orphans?' Ya really had to go there, Scoots?!" She shook her head. "I can forgive ya for that whole mur... murd... that comment earlier, but that orphan one took it too dang far. It hurt." For a second, Apple Bloom's lip trembled, but it was quickly hidden behind a mask of anger.

"What?! I don't see..." All of a sudden everything rushed back to Scootaloo, and she looked down and grimaced. "Oh. Look, Bloom, I didn't mean anything... I wasn't thinking, okay? I'm sorry."

Apple Bloom sighed. "'S fine, Scoots. Just..." She sighed once more. "Why the hay are we here? I'm... this is just kinda screwin' 'round with me." Groaning, Apple Bloom rubbed her forehead. "Why'd ya follow her, huh?"

"I don't know, okay?" Scootaloo practically spat. "My legs just started moving."

"What, you have no control of your body or somethin'?"

"Just forget it," Scootaloo mumbled, pulling herself out of the tub and crossing to the towel rack—not even bothering to wipe her hooves off the bathmat. She dried herself off—though 'dry' was giving her a bit too much credit—and walked out the door. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle didn't even bother chasing her this time; Scootaloo guessed that they must be used to her storming off by now.

Each step she took left a trail of water, and she could feel strands of the purple carpet sticking to her soggy hooves. She felt sort of bad about it. Only marginally so, though. It was just a carpet after all. Her hooves made a muffled _thunk_ as she descended the stairs, not loud enough for it to register in her ear but apparently loud enough for Rainbow to hear. She looked up the staircase, head tilted to the side and donning a yellow and purple-striped bow.

"Hello, darling. Are you finished with your bath?" Scootaloo would be lying if she said that hearing that voice coming out of a pony with that name and that mane didn't make her want to blow chunks. Still, she kept her composure and managed to force a tiny, foal-like smile, which the mare reflected in a broad grin.

"My, my. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were a totally different filly," she exclaimed, a squeal of delight sneaking in on her last words. Scootaloo flinched, but somehow managed to keep the smile on her face. She walked up to Rainbow and looked up at her, head cocked in confusion. Scootaloo figured that it was best to play it safe and keep the 'innocent, abused orphan' act up; going back on it now would ruin everything.

"Ma'am?" The word felt foreign on Scootaloo's tongue. "Forgive me if I'm asking too much, but me and my friends haven't eaten a good meal in... well, in a long time." It wasn't a complete lie. It had been nearly three days since she'd had anything resembling a meal. A couple of slices of bread, three apples, and four canteens of water, but Scootaloo wouldn't really consider those to be a meal. They were barely snacks.

"So," Scootaloo continued, "if you could, maybe, possibly, provide us with a bite to eat we—"

"Why, of course!" She chortled merrily. "I have so much food here that I don't know what to do with it half the time. Better give it to ponies in need than throw it away, wouldn't you say?" She chortled once more, softer this time. "Hee hee, that rhymed."

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but made sure to keep smiling. "Thank you so much." She paused and fiddled with her hooves. "I wish there was something I could do to repay you."

"Oh, it's no bother," Rainbow said with a wave of her hoof. She sighed and looked out the window, and for a second Scootaloo thought she saw sadness in this boisterous mare's eyes. "Having some company is more than enough."

Just then Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle cantered down the stairs, Sweetie Belle with a towel wrapped around her head. Rainbow smiled and struck up a mirthful conversation with the two newcomers, however Scootaloo noticed that her voice was missing something, like a wire in her heart had been cut.

With a sigh, Scootaloo wandered over to the window and looked out at the street. Every building on the street had a reminder of past glory hanging above their front doors, faded and worn by rain and time. From a cobweb-covered sign with the dim remains of an orange butterfly, to a dust-covered window with a ripped sticker that had been a part of a pink star at one point in time—or was it a flower? Scootaloo couldn't tell.

She was observing a building with what appeared to be three peppermints hanging by a rusted chain in the middle of the door when the smoke began to fill the street. Within seconds of the first wispy tendril gliding by the window like a lost soul the entire street was enshrouded in a murky blackness. She couldn't even see the cobblestone street through the haze.

_Grrrgggr..._

Scootaloo's ears perked up. The growl echoed through her head like a scream in a cave. She looked over at the others, expecting their ears to be in equal states of raised confusion. However, they were locked in conversation, Rainbow talking away, Sweetie Belle listening intently, and Apple Bloom looking only half-interested—not looking at Rainbow, nodding her head every once in awhile to feign interest. Confused, Scootaloo looked back out the window. Her mouth opened in a silent shriek.

It all happened in the blink of the eye. A creature dark as night stormed forth from the shadows, discernable only because of its crimson eyes and blood-drenched fangs, bared and seeking their next meal. It broke through the bay window, showering Scootaloo in glass and inky shadows. Blood dripped down from its razor-sharp incisors onto her face; she could taste its vileness.

Then, like a rabid jackal, it sprang forward. It was behind Rainbow and ready to bite down in two steps. It reared back on its hind legs and opened its jaws. Rainbow was completely oblivious. Scootaloo watched in horror as its gaping maw came down upon Rainbow's head in slow motion. The razors grew closer, centimeter by centimeter, touching her fur, piercing her skin, a shower of dark crimson exploded around the creatures mouth.

And then it turned to her, a devilish, blood-soaked smile on its lips, and lowered itself into pouncing position.

"NOOOOOO!"

Scootaloo fell backwards against the wall, sweating and crying, and stared...

… directly in the perplexed faces of Rainbow, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom. She looked behind her, and saw that the window was still in perfect condition—save for the dust and scratches that always come with age. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, Scootaloo rose to her hooves and stared out the window. The streets of Vanhoover were fine. Not a single mass of black or deranged creature in sight. She groaned and placed her head in her hooves.

"_Wow. You really are fucked up."_

_Get lost._ Scootaloo didn't know if it was possible to destroy a voice, but boy, did she wish she could.

"Sorry," Scootaloo said with a sheepish smile. "Thought I saw... uh, a spider."

"Oh, dearie, don't be ridiculous." Rainbow's voice had jumped well past the boundaries of 'ear-grating,' and was close to insufferable. "I make sure to keep this quaint little house of mine as spick-and-span as possible."

"As I said. _Thought,_" Scootaloo mumbled.

"Well, you can never be too careful."

"Huh?"

"Now," Rainbow continued, "I heard it through the grapevine that some little ponies might just be on the hungry side, is that correct?"

None of the three fillies said anything, but Apple Bloom's stomach growled at the mention of 'hungry.' That was enough for Rainbow.

"I'll take that as a 'certainly!'" she practically cheered. Beaming from ear to ear, she turned and sauntered to a door in the back of the room. Scootaloo guessed it lead to the kitchen. Rainbow reached the doorway, turned and smiled at the three. "Come now. Rainbow Dash's Famous Lilac Lasagna isn't going to eat itself!" Scootaloo glared.

_You don't deserve that name._

Without a word or a smile, Scootaloo followed Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>The so-called 'Famous Lilac Lasagna' was actually deserving of its title in Scootaloo's opinion. Sure, it might have been the fact that she had gone three days with nothing but water and apples that made the meal so scrumptious, but that didn't matter much. All that mattered was that her stomach was full and her mind was clear, and the lasagna did the trick flawlessly. The fact that the flavor tickled her taste buds just right was simply a bonus.<p>

Not much conversing had taken place during dinner. Rainbow had asked them if they liked the food more times than somepony should ask, and each of the fillies had nodded and said their thanks and gone back to stuffing their faces. Apple Bloom downed three plates, Sweetie Belle only ate one ("I have to watch my figure," she had said, inciting an eye-roll from Apple Bloom), and Scootaloo had a whopping five. She wondered how Rainbow had managed to make so much lasagna in such a seemingly short time.

"Hey, Miss," Scootaloo said, voice muffled behind noodles a lilac buds. "I'm just wondering... do you live with anypony?"

She made a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh, and waved a hoof through the air. "Oh no, darling. It's just me." That distant glint that Scootaloo had seen in her eye earlier returned, now clearly apparent under the bright lights of the dining room.

"Then why do you have all this food? I mean... I wouldn't be surprised if we're eating more than you eat in a year!"

"You wouldn't be wrong there." She laughed again.

There was a long pause where the only sound was the clinking of silverware and plates. Then Scooatloo asked, "So, what's up with your name, anyway?"

Rainbow looked confused. "Well, it's always been my name."

"Really?" Scootaloo wasn't convinced. "Rainbow Dash is your name?"

"Yes," she replied, looking at Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, eyes wide. "That's what my parents named me."

"Uh huh. Know any other Rainbow Dashes by chance?"

"Well," Rainbow said, "not personally, no. But, now that you mention it, I did read about one in the newspaper. Canterlot Sentinel, to be exact. I like to be a mare aware of the world. Anyway, this other Rainbow Dash was an Element of Harmony, apparently." She chuckled. "Can you believe that? Me, a simple fashion designer, sharing the same name as a hero of Equestria! Oh, that could bring in such a profit.

"The article said she passed away, though. Tragic. So young, too. Well, if the newspaper gave her age right." She paused and laughed. "I remember... oh, it must have been a decade ago. I was featured in the Vanhoover Sun—they were doing an article on one of my dresses, you see—and they listed my age as thirty when I was only twenty-five!" She leaned back and sighed. "My friends and I... we laughed about that for... quite a while."

"Pardon me, Miss Rainbow?" Apple Bloom spoke up. "But, uh, where are your friends? You were tellin' us earlier 'bout all y'all hangin' out and playin' for days and days, so I'm guessin' they used ta live around here. But, 'sides your house, this area's deader than a fish in the desert."

"You're right about that," she said, leaning forward in her chair and adjusting the bow in her mane. "Well... ponies change. Grow older, drift apart. Most of my friends headed east after the arts scene around here fell under. My friend, Toola-Roola, used to run a studio right next door." She pointed towards the far wall. "That pony could paint. Landscapes, portraits, abstract. You name it, she'd paint it.

"Then, three years ago, she just came in one day and said she was moving east. 'The world's moved on, Rainbow,' she said. So, I did what any pony would do in that situation: I pleaded. I begged her to stay like a foal begging for a lollipop." She lowered her head, hooves coming up to rest against her eyes. "I told her I would give her a place to stay. I told her I would pay for her rent. I bargained and pleaded and begged.

"Me and her were the only ones of our circle left, you see. I had... I couldn't just..." She drifted off and sighed, as if she were an entirely different mare from the one that had been laughing and joking mere minutes before. "You don't want to hear this story. I know you don't.

"But, she went east. Just like everypony else. As I said, ponies change. I stayed here. That is that." With that, Rainbow went back to eating. Her frown seemed unnatural, yet the pain in her eyes was as real as it got. Scootaloo kicked herself. It seemed that, no matter where she went, bleakness followed. In a way, she hated it; she hated what she was going through and would never wish it on anypony.

And yet another side—a malevolent side—wanted them to feel what she was feeling. How dare they be happy when her world had shattered around her! Life was beating the tattered remnants of her happier past into dust. It only seemed fair for her to mark the souls of those she came across with an incision or two.

"Sorry for bringin' that up," Apple Bloom said. "I didn't mean ta cause any pain."

"You didn't, darling," Rainbow sighed. "Just... Oh, it doesn't matter now. The past is the past. I have company—and very fine company, I might add. There is no need for me to get upset in such an absolutely fabulous occasion!" Her smile returned like a phoenix out of the ashes. There was still an ember of pain in her eyes—ever-glowing and never far from the surface—yet it was clear that it was no longer in the forefront of her mind.

She stood up, the chair making an irritable squeak as it slid along the immaculate tile floor. "Now," she said, "who wants some cake." The three fillies looked up, all three of them licking their lips. _Cake doesn't sound bad,_ Scootaloo admitted.

"It's red velvet," Rainbow added, as if that made any difference.

* * *

><p>With a content sigh, Scootaloo leaned her head against the backboard. As was to be expected, the cake was as satisfying as rain after a year-long drought. Even Scootaloo had to admit that it might have been one of the best cakes she had ever had. It wasn't as good as something Pinkie Pie or the Cakes could make, but it would definitely put up a fight in a baking competition.<p>

She stared at the map spread across her lap. She had been studying it since dinner had ended and Rainbow had cleared the table. Sweetie Belle had volunteered to help Rainbow clean the dishes, but she had politely turned down the help.

"It wouldn't be right to make a guest do work," she had said.

Despite her eagerness to help out, Sweetie Belle had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had touched the pillow. Apple Bloom had stayed up a while longer, trying to start a conversation with Scootaloo that had gone nowhere, and eventually turned in for the night as well.

Now only Scootaloo was awake, a map on her lap, another map behind that one, and _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool_ set out on the sheets beside her. She had insisted that she sleep on the edge; it gave her more room to plan.

From what she could tell, she was going to have to cross the sea. How she was going to do that was a mystery; she couldn't fly, and boat passages cost a ton of bits. Not to mention, neither she nor her friends would know how to pilot the thing. Stowing away on a ship headed west could work, but the chances of discovery were too high.

She cradled her head in her hooves, massaging her temples and chewing on her lip. The maps had proven themselves to be useful; she now had an idea of where she was going. The problem was that she had no idea how she was going to get there.

"_Maybe you should just jump in the water and swim for it until you drown. That's what you want, right?"_

_Will you just stop it. You're not helping. You're not funny. Just shut it._

"_No,"_ the voice said, its tone rougher than the bark of a tree. _"No, this is too much fun."_

_Please..._

There was a long pause. Scootaloo made sure not to get her hopes up this time.

"_For tonight..."_

And that was that. The world was silent save for Sweetie Belle's and Apple Bloom's gentle snoring.

Scootaloo sighed again, looking down at her maps. Lines. Notes. 'X's' and circles and paths of all colors marked. At the bottom of her biggest map, she had scribbled notes based off of her readings in_Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool._ Pages where locations were mentioned. Symbols. Parallels between real and fictitious places and events. It was more work than she had ever done for a school project—or anything, for that matter—and it was driving her mad.

Suddenly, a voice from the past snuck into her ear. It was a part of a conversation during dinner that she had only been half-interested in.

Sweetie Belle had been talking to Rainbow about dresses and fashion, bringing up Rarity and her, in Sweetie Belle's words, 'crazy' work ethic that would drive her 'bananas' (Sweetie Belle had referred to Rarity as a friend, volunteer, and the only "good pony" at the orphanage—able to make beautiful clothes out of potato sacks. Scootaloo had to admit that Sweetie Belle's improvistion abilities were impressive). Sweetie Belle had asked Rainbow how she dealt with stress, being a fashionista in her own part. At the time, Scootaloo had a mouthful of cake, and the next words had gone in Scootaloo's right ear, then straight out the left. Now, they were back and rattling around her brain like a song.

"Sometimes, you just need to sit back," Rainbow had said. "If you try to force something out, be it a dress or an assignment or anything else, you're only going to hurt. Whenever I have a dress that I just can't get right, I simply step away from the sewing machine and sleep on it. A rested mind is far more effective than a panicked one."

Scootaloo let the words resonate around her head a few times, eyes closed and head leaned back. Then in a single motion she pushed the maps and book off the bed. She didn't need a headache, she needed rest.

She lay back on her pillow and took a deep breath. Then, she rolled over and buried her face in it. The silk pillowcase smelled of lavender. Though she wouldn't admit it out loud, Scootaloo loved that smell. It was calming, like the smell the air has right before a spring thunderstorm. The mattress rose and fell beneath her, pushed by the gentle breaths of her friends.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Scootaloo fell asleep without a pain in her chest or ache in her head. Planning? That could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to sleep soundly and dream about cloudless skies.


	10. A Lifeless Life

A chill wind blew along the coast, making Scootaloo's mane look like a purple bonfire. She curled up tighter on the dew-stained bench, hoping that her feathers and coat would be enough to combat the breeze. Still, she shivered, making the map lain out on the weathered wood much more difficult to read. It fluttered in the wind as her forelegs shook like a leaf. She bit her lip and tried to focus, but the wind kept blowing and her troubled thoughts kept flowing.

She had woken before dawn in a sweat, the fractured remnants of a nightmare faintly pulsating in her memory. She couldn't remember what she had dreamed about, but she had a pretty good idea: open spaces and horrific monsters. They had become so common that they almost didn't register with her anymore. The first few nights after Rainbow had died, the dreams had been crystal-clear, even long after she had awoken. She could still remember some of them down to the amount of dust on a blood-filled teacup (she didn't know why they came in the form of teacups; she had given up on trying to understand her dreams long ago). Now, she couldn't even remember what the monsters looked like: some days they were wolves, others they were ghouls, still others they were formless, and even once they had come in the shape of deranged trees—branches curved into fangs.

After a few minutes spent trying, and failing, to fall back asleep, Scootaloo had given in and started her day. Unfortunately, she was the only one. As far as she could tell nobody else in the building was awake—not even the bugs. She had sat at the kitchen table for what must have been half an hour, before throwing her forelegs up—both figuratively and literally—and deciding to go for a walk. Besides, clean air would probably do her mind a lot more good than a musty beauty parlor would.

Predictably, Vanhoover was like a ghost town: completely empty. She couldn't even hear the distant clop of hooves on cobblestone. The only signs that anypony had ever walked down the streets were the wrappers, bags, bottles, and other litter that covered the street like winter snow. She saw a few rats scurry away from her—some crossing the street from boarded-windowed shop to another and some simply hiding in the toppled trash cans they were using as a breakfast buffet. As revolting as the sight should have been, Scootaloo only felt relief. At least she wasn't alone.

She had found the park she now sat in while she was searching for a bakery to buy a muffin or bagel or something to eat from. She had found only one bakery that wasn't out of business, and it had rubbed her the wrong way—swarming with bulky ponies donning sunglasses even though it wasn't even dawn yet and suits that looked like they cost more than a sweet shop would make in a century—so she had simply cantered on by. It seemed quiet enough, and the coastline was a nice touch. _I've always wanted to see the sea_. She gave a slight giggle at her own joke, but it was quickly replaced by a frown and a sigh.

Once, her father had mentioned going on a family vacation to the east coast, but it had been in the midst of a slow year and money had been tight. That was the only time he had ever mentioned going to the beach. Now that she thought about it, he had never even proposed another vacation, period. The fact that her father was an artist, yet hated travel more than a socialite hated dirt, had always confused Scootaloo. She had always guessed that those two went hoof in hoof: like pegasi and flying, or librarians and books, or politics and sheer and utter boredom.

_Guess not_.

A heavy gust blew against the map, threatening to blow it away, and Scootaloo held it down with her hoof, groaning in frustration. She had looked at the map, tracing any possible routes, exactly ten times (she had counted) in the past hour, and was no closer to finding a suitable way to reach the Phoenix Pool—or even where the Phoenix Pool was in the first place.

The map in the book was looking more and more like a big hoax. Earlier in the morning, not five minutes into her first sweep, she had discovered a faded line that wasn't a marking of latitude or longitude. After a painstaking amount of flipping from the map, to a page in the book, and back, Scootaloo concluded that the marking was actually drawn in. She guessed that somepony had drawn Daring's route in for... some reason. She didn't know, but it was a hint: progress, even.

Or so she thought.

The line was right on target all the way up to Vanhoover Island. It sketched the route from Mexicolt, to Canterlot, to Vanhoover in the exact way that Daring had done. She even noticed little numbers at certain points which appeared to be corresponding page numbers. However, when it got to Vanhoover Island it simply stopped.

It was perplexing. The line started up again somewhere in Strideberia. Why would it just... stop?

She groaned as realization filled her like freezing water. There was only one thing she could do now, and the very idea gave her a headache.

She had to read—actually _read_—more of the book.

_I was really hoping I didn't have to_, she mumbled inwardly. _No offense to Dash, but this book sucks_.

With a groan and a flinch, she opened the book up to the page she had lazily bookmarked with part of her train ticket.

_Desperate times..._ she thought as she began to read.

She hoped it wouldn't put her to sleep this time.

* * *

><p><em>The only sounds that echoed through the Vanhoover Marina were the clanging of bells and chains, and the near-endless retching of Daring Do.<em>

_Though she wouldn't admit it, she had the weakest sealegs in Equestria. Flying, she could do. Walking? She would do that with a frown, but still she could do it with ease. But the sea? No, that only lead to seasickness and her stumbling over her own hooves as the captain of the boat laughed at her._

_If she had any say in the matter, she would have simply flown to Vanhoover. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of her solo ventures, and her companion was not a pegasus—or a unicorn for that matter. Nay, she was stuck with Pallah._

"_Ey, Darey!"_

_Pallah was dressed exactly as Daring had expected: red and white tiki shirt, sunglasses, and his black mane slicked back with so much pomade that it overwhelmed Daring's senses. The scent was so strong that it overpowered the salty air and rot of dead fish, and for that, Daring was almost thankful. Almost_

And of course, he just had to call me 'Darey,'_ she thought with a grimace. She had hoped he would outgrow that nickname after college. However, to grow out of using names like that, one has to mature, and Daing was convinced that Pallah had a genetic defect that permanently kept him in the mental state of a teenager._

"_Hey, Pallah." Daring forced a smile. "An hour late, as usual."_

_Pallah grinned, his far-too-white teeth reflecting the sun and nearly blinding Daring._

"_How many?" Daring asked._

"_Just one. Unicorn mare from East Neighstings. Great set of legs." He gave a slimy smile. "Not as nice as yours, though."_

_She shook her head, sighing and glowering. To call Pallah a friend was to call water dry._

_Still, he had his uses. For one, he was a phenomenal tracker. In Daring's opinion, he was a much better tracker than she was. She needed a map, or at least a compass, to find an ancient ruin. Pallah just needed to know what they were looking for—be it a temple, castle, or something else—and he could find it like a cat finds a mouse in a brightly lit room. Then there was his impeccable knowledge of the Ferussian language. Daring knew the language, but she struggled to carry on a conversation with it._

_And of course, he was a good fighter. As much as Daring liked to think that she could handle an entire army on her own, she admitted that help was always beneficial. She may have not liked him much, but Pallah was the kind of pony one wanted to have their back when the manure hit the fan._

_Still, ignoring him as much as possible was all that Daring wanted to do._

"_I heard about your dad," he called as he walked up the gangplank. "Sucks... you alright?" Daring was surprised that his voice actually seemed genuinely concerned._

"_Yeah," she murmured. "Thanks for asking."_

"_So, where's this place we're going?" Pallah asked as he leaned back against the boat railing Daring was hunched over._

"_A temple," Daring said._

"_A temple?!" Pallah lifted his sunglasses, exposing his green eyes, red from the night before and wide with shock from Daring's revelation, to the world. "On Vanhoover Island?"_

"_Yeah."_

_He shook his head and said, "There aren't any temples on Vanhoover Island. Trees and grass huts, sure. Not temples."_

"_It sounds crazy to me, too, but this map says..." Her voice trailed off as she dug through her saddlebag. Once she found it, she shoved it in his face, continuing, "This map says that there's a temple."_

_Pallah studied the map for a few seconds, then frowned. "This map is... I don't recognize half of these landmarks, and I know Vanhoover Island like the back of my hoof." He shook his head and pushed it back. "This map's a load of crap.."_

"_It isn't 'a load of crap.' It's legit."_

_He cocked his head to the side. "And you know this, how?"_

"_I just..." She sighed. "I have this feeling."_

_He grunted and shook his head. "You've gotta be kidding me," he whispered, just loud enough for Daring to hear. "Going off of gut instinct..." Daring wasn't even sure if he was speaking to her or not. He gave a long sigh and said, "If I didn't respect you so damn much, I would walk away. Unfortunately..." he groaned, "you've never steered me wrong before. I've forced you to accompany me on a shit-ton of wild goose chases in the past. Only fitting I let you drag me along on one to."_

"_Really?" Daring said._

"_Yeah." Pallah's voice lacked emotion. He looked behind Daring, then out at the surrounding marina, his brow furrowing with each passing glance. "Hey, where's the captain of this tub?" He laughed. "Don't tell me it's you. I remember you blowing chunks when you rode one of those inflatable rafts at that frat party."_

"_I was drunk," Daring sneered, "and no, I'm not driving this thing. Captain's not here." Daring took off her helmet and wiped her brow. "She said she'd be here at two. Don't know what could be keeping her."_

_Once again, Pallah's grating chuckle filled the air. "Looks like it's just you and me for a bit then, eh?" Daring cringed as he continued, "Perfect time to catch up on old times, don't ya say?"_

"_No, it's not." She quickly trudged to the other side of the boat and began to watch nothing in particular. The birds held her interest for all of five seconds, the wakes in the water held her attention a bit longer. _

_She was observing how the dock seemed to bounce in rhythm when Pallah snorted. "Fine then. Don't wanna talk, we won't talk. Jeez, I'm not forcing you to do anything, Daring." The sound of hoofsteps drew closer and Daring suddenly felt a hoof on her back. She recoiled at the feeling. There was something about it. Something very un-Pallah. "I'm here for you, okay? I just wanted to see... you know, I lost my mother a few years back, so I know how it is."_

"_I remember the letter," Daring said, the image of damp parchment—a sight she'd grown used to seeing lain out before her recently—entering her mind._

"_So, if you want to talk, I'll listen."_

_Daring let out a shuddering sigh. "Well," she began, "now that you mention it, I guess I could talk to—"_

"_SHIT!"_

"_Well, excuse me, jerk!" Daring seethed, raising her hoof to sock Pallah on the muzzle.. "You're the one who brought it up!" _

_Pallah, for his part, had done the smart thing and made himself small—cowering against the side of the boat and looking up at her with pleading eyes. His mouth was moving, and Daring realized he was whispering something. She leaned forward and listened close._

"_Mare," he whispered, nodding his head in the direction of the docks. "Mare from last night."_

_Taking the hint, Daring looked towards the dock and saw exactly what Pallah was so scared of. A unicorn mare was walking down dock, directly in the direction of their boat. The sun reflecting off her blue mane and white coat was nearly enough to blind Daring, but she still got a good idea of what the mare looked like—and just why Pallah had been so eager to get in bed with her the night before._

"_Gotta agree with you on those legs, compadre," she said with a smirk, stealing a glance at her petrified friend._

_As Daring expected, the unicorn kept walking their way, and before long was making her way up the gangplank. Daring greeted her before she even set hoof on the deck. "You the captain?" she asked._

"_Yes, I am," the mare replied, leaning away from Daring just slightly (Daring couldn't blame her; she was kind of up in the poor unicorn's face at the moment). "I'm, uh, Cay. It's an honor to meet you, Miss Do."_

_Daring smirked. "Honor? Does my name really carry out this far?"_

"_I've never met a pony who didn't know the name." She laughed briefly, but it was quickly replaced with a sigh as she ran a hoof through her mane. "I'm sorry about being late..."_

"_Rough night?"_

"_Don't even get me started," Cay groused._

_Daring let out a chortle. "Then you might not want to look behind me."_

_Cay cocked her head. "And why wouldn't I want to—YOU!" She shot by Daring like a lightning bolt and pressed her head against the cowering Pallah, eyes narrowed into venomous slits and horn glowing a deathly blue._

"_H-h-hey, Cay," Pallah stuttered. "Fancy seeing you here. I-I remember you said you were a captain, but... heh heh, what a surprise."_

"_You," she said through gritted teeth. All Pallah did was sit stock still and whimper. "How. Dare—how could you? Sleep with a mare—tell her you love her and will do anything for her—and then just run off like I'm some kinda item. A damn blow-up doll! How... ERGH!" She slammed her hoof onto the deck of the boat, leaving a noticeable depression in the salty wood, and walked back over to Daring, jaw taut._

"_Why is that ass here?" she whispered. "Do you know him?"_

"_Unfortunately."_

"_Do you..." Her words drifted off as she looked back and glared at Pallah. After letting her glare burn him a bit more, she turned back to Daring and continued, "Do you know what he did to me, last night?"_

"_I have a good idea."_

"_Can you believe that—"_

"_Were you drunk last night?" Daring asked._

"_Excuse me?" Cay asked, recoiling._

"_Drunk," Daring repeated. "Were you drunk?"_

"_No."_

"_Well, that's good."_

"_Why is that good?"_

"_Look, I don't want to continue going down this... conversation path or whatever," Daring said. "Pallah there's a real jerk, but he's also the best assistant I can afford, and you're the best captain—or at least, so I've heard."_

_Cay's face turned beet-red at the comment. "Well, I'm not one to brag, but... yeah, I am pretty good."_

"_Alright then, that's all I need to hear. Can you take us to Vanhoover Island?"_

"_Of course... if you have the bit, that is."_

"_Have it right here." Daring pulled a coin purse out of her jacket with her tail. Cay seemed impressed by the feat, but did not say a word._

"_Well, then..." She gave Pallah one last glare. "Keep that bastard away from me, and I'll have you there before you can say cupcakes."_

"_Cupcakes."_

_Cay stuck out her tongue and trotted to the wheelhouse, taking the time to zap Pallah with a miniature lightning bolt before she opened the door. Daring couldn't help but laugh at the sight._

"_Hey, Miss Do, could you—"_

"_Daring. Just call me Daring, please. 'Miss Do' makes me think I'm somepony's grandma."_

_Cay laughed. "Alrighty then... anyway, Daring, could you do me a favor and move the gangplank out of the way?" She pointed at it, as if Daring couldn't see two feet in front of her. "Just... Just push it. It floats."_

"_Will do," Daring said with a laugh—_

* * *

><p>Scootaloo groaned and rubbed her face with her hooves.<p>

"How much more of this crap is there?" she muttered as she began to flip through the pages. There were ten more pages left in the chapter. _Ten more than there should be. Just tell me what's going on already!_

It was brighter out. Scootaloo no longer had to squint to read the words. If she'd had any interest in actually reading, this would have been a blessing. However, she looked at it as a curse. She had been hoping she could use the whole "couldn't see" excuse as a reason to stop. She wondered if the library or some bookstore would have an abridged version of the book—save her some time and pain. Of course, she had no idea if any stores or libraries would have them in stock, or be open—or even exist for that matter.

She groaned. The book was boring her to tears. Didn't Rainbow tell her they were awesome? She sure had! She had sung the series' praises from the tops of the clouds. Yet, Scootaloo just wasn't seeing it. Where was the action? The adventure? The 'prototypical pegasus' whom Rainbow had called Daring Do? It certainly couldn't be this character she was reading about... could it?

_You're not trying to be a critic, you're looking for answers_. Scootaloo couldn't tell if the thought was her own, or the voice making a return. Before she could find an answer, the thought continued.

_Just find the answer and stop_.

Scootaloo looked down at the book and nodded. It was simple: all she had to do was flip through the pages, find a mention of the "temple," read from there (though going back a page or two might help), get a decent description of what she should be looking for, know what to expect when she got there, and play off of that.

Easy, peasy, one two threesy.

With a twist of her neck—sending out a chorus of pops and clicks (reading had a way of making a pony's joints stiffer than a pillar)—Scootaloo stretched out her eye muscles and began to sift through the book.

* * *

><p>The smell of pancakes overwhelmed Scootaloo a few blocks from Rainbow's shop. Scootaloo knew that the shop was the source of the heavenly aroma; any smell on this side of town that wasn't fetid had to be coming from Rainbow's shop. To Scootaloo, it was both a good sign and a bad sign: good because it meant that at least one of Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, or Rainbow were awake, and bad because it meant that one of Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, or Rainbow were awake.<p>

She walked up to the shop and pushed on the gold, flower-patterned latch, swallowing heavily so that she wasn't drooling like a dog when she bumped into whoever. The smell hit her like a freight train as soon as she opened the door—apples, cinnamon, sugary goodness—and it took all her effort to not pounce on the Big Macintosh-tall stack of pancakes that rested on a pink cat plate in the middle of the vacant kitchen table.

The will of her stomach proved too weak, and she crept towards the garishly-pink tablecloth and the beacon upon it. Just a few pancakes. She'd just sneak a few when nopony was looking, eat a couple—though she guessed it would be more like a couple cubed—sneak back upstairs, pretend to be asleep, then come back down and act as though she hadn't eaten a bit. Best of all, she could ignore a one-on-one with—

"Ah, looks like somepony's an early bird." Speak of the devil, and she shall appear... in a gold silk robe and with a face covered in green mask-gunk.

Rainbow took a seat at one of the chairs, placing a rainbow-colored mug she had been balancing on her head on the table with a loud _knock_. Steam billowed from the top of the coffee cup, briefly obscuring Rainbow's makeuped face in a ghostly haze as she took a sip. Scootaloo had to admit that the act was impressive. She thought that only unicorns could drink from a coffee "mug." All the pegasi and earth ponies she knew used modified mugs. Not Rainbow, though. Scootaloo made a note to ask Apple Bloom if earth pony hooves were more heat resistant than those of a pegasus or unicorn.

"Sit down, please," Rainbow said, flashing the most obnoxious smile Scootaloo had ever seen. Still, Scootaloo obliged and pulled up a chair, wincing at the ear-grating scratching noise of wood sliding across wood. She paused and listened, hoping for once to hear the sounds of her friends' hooves as they fell out of bed, scampered down the stairs, and freed her from this nightmare. Unfortunately, the sound never came, and Scootaloo's eyes shrunk to the size of an atoms as the truth hit her: she was all alone with Rainbow.

_Kill me now_.

"Help yourself." Rainbow motioned to the pancakes, and Scootaloo briefly wondered if they were laced with poison and this was all some sort of elaborate trap. It didn't take her long to dismiss the thought as stupid, but she still had her doubts: both of the pancakes and this pony that dared to call herself 'Rainbow Dash.'

However, if apples were the fruit of temptation, apple-cinnamon pancakes were a snare, and Scootaloo couldn't keep herself from digging in. Soon, there were two pancakes on her plate and two in her mouth—she didn't even bother with syrup, she was so famished.

"Sleep well?" Rainbow asked.

"_Mmf_?" Scootaloo looked up, eyebrow arched and cheeks stuffed.

"I said," Rainbow repeated, failing to suppress a chortle, "did you sleep well last night?"

Scootaloo swallowed and thought. "Well," she began, "I definitely slept better than I have recently."

Rainbow squealed. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that, honey!"

"Yeah..." Scootaloo rubbed her ringing ear with her hoof and sighed. A feeling in her gut told her that this was going to be the hardest breakfast she would ever have to endure. She turned her attention back to her pancakes and tried to tune Rainbow out.

It was a lost cause.

"How do you like the pancakes?" she asked.

"They're alright," Scootaloo said through a mouthful of pancake.

"So, did you like the sheets? They're nice, aren't they?"

"They were alright."

"I knew they would do the trick."

"Mhmm."

For a while, the only sounds were Scootaloo chewing and Rainbow sipping her coffee while tapping her hoof on the floor in an arrhythmic pattern. For a minute, Scootaloo thought she was in the clear.

"So," Rainbow said, shattering Scootaloo's hopes for peace and quiet, "those friends of yours... how long have you known each other?"

Scootaloo debated whether or not to answer truthfully. After all, saying she knew them could ruin her whole plan. She could have just make up a lie. Rainbow wouldn't know, and Scootaloo doubted she truly cared. Still, something made her lean towards truthfulness, and she did exactly that—at least marginally.

"Well," she began, "I've known Sweetie Belle—she's the unicorn—since as far back as I can remember. I can't even remember a time when we weren't friends. We've just always, sorta... been around each other, you know?" Rainbow nodded and Scootaloo continued, "And Apple Bloom, the other one... well, she was in the same position as us. Uh, bottom of the barrel, if you know what I mean? And, from there we just kinda started hanging out and things... things clicked. We've been friends ever since. We had fun together when times were good. We've... we've held each other when times aren't so good. Laughed. Cried. Everything we do..." Scootaloo looked off to the side, the gears in her head turning and whirring so fast that she guessed Rainbow could see smoke coming out her ears. "We do together." The last words came out as a whisper, but to Scootaloo they might as well have been yelled from the peak of the tallest mountain in Equestria.

"Ah, I see." A pause echoed through the kitchen before being replaced by Rainbow's voice once more. "And what is your name, dear? I don't believe you ever gave me one." She chortled. "Then again, I don't think I ever asked."

"Scootaloo. My name's Scootaloo."

"That's a very lovely name," Rainbow said.

Scootaloo merely shrugged. "You know, I knew another 'Rainbow Dash,'" she said.

"I guessed you did." Rainbow giggled.

"That noticeable, huh?"

"A blind pony would have been able to read that face." She gasped and covered her mouth with her hooves, face growing red. "Oh dear, that joke was in horrible taste. Rude and uncalled for. I apologize. I truly feel bad about—"

"It's cool," Scootaloo said between laughs. "That was actually a good one."

"Still," Rainbow said, "it _was_ in poor taste."

"Whatever." Scootaloo shrugged. "Anyway, as I was saying, I knew this pony named 'Rainbow Dash' once, and she was about as not you as possible."

"Really now?"

"Yeah. Tough. Cool. Radical. A bit of a softy once you got on her good side."

"Well, that's certainly not me," Rainbow laughed.

"You can say that again."

"Forgive me, dear, if I'm overstepping my bounds here, but I couldn't help but notice that you are referring to this Rainbow in the past tense, and I feel the need to ask what—"

"Gone," Scootaloo said, eyes set on the half-eaten pancake on her plate. "She's gone."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's just gone. She'll be back. I'll make sure."

"Mhm." And with that, Rainbow went back to sipping her coffee, leaving Scootaloo to sit there and wonder. She asked what had made her speak about Dash in the first place. The more she tried to justify talking about her, the more confusion it brought forth. She sighed and looked up at Rainbow, and for a second she could have sworn she saw feathers behind her back.

With a shake of her head and a loud groan, Scootaloo rubbed her face with her hooves. Then, she looked up at Rainbow.

"Can I get a cup of that?" she asked.

* * *

><p>"So then he was all like, 'No, I'm not!' And the other pony, he's all like, 'Yes, you are!' And then they just toss their trays and start pounding on one another. I'm talking wailing away on each other's faces. It was crazy!"<p>

The steaming cup shook in Scootaloo's hooves, rattling against the table. The coffee had been blistering hot at first, and Scootaloo had begun to wonder why so many ponies seemed so eager to consume the beverage as if it were their lifeblood, but then she'd felt the kick. Two cups and two minutes later she was an orange ball of energy.

"Hey, have you ever read the Daring Do books?" Scootaloo asked, flashing her coffee-stained teeth.

"Can't say I have," Rainbow said. "I'm more of a romance novel fan."

"Blech!" Scootaloo stuck her tongue out, then giggled. "Eh, you're not missing anything. They're pretty dull. Not enough dragon fighting and fire and swords and _awesomeness_!" She jumped up on the chair, raising a foreleg in the air.

Rainbow simply chortled and took a bit of a pancake.

"What's so funny?" Scootaloo asked as she sat back down in the chair, tapping the side with her forehooves.

Rainbow chortled again and shook her head, but didn't say a word. Scootaloo groaned and went to take another sip from her cup, only to find it empty. "'Nother cup?" she said.

"I think you've had enough, deary."

"No I haven't." Scootaloo blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes. "I'm, like, a caffeine queen. I can handle twenty more cups of this." She slammed the mug on the table. "Fill 'er up!"

Rainbow giggled for what felt like—and possibly was—the hundredth time.

Scootaloo opened her mouth to say something when a voice from behind cut her off.

"Didn't think I'd be findin' a rooster in the middle of tha dang city," Apple Bloom said. She was leaned against the doorway, rubbing her eyes with one of her hooves and yawning widely.

"What is it with you and thinking I'm some sorta bird?" Scootaloo seethed.

There was a long pause before Apple Bloom answered with a half-hearted shrug.

"Well, good morning Apple Bloom," Rainbow said with a smile.

"Mornin' to ya too, Ma'am." Apple Bloom sniffed. "Please tell me I ain't hallucinatin' and those are apple pancakes." Even from a distance Scootaloo could see Apple Bloom's mouth watering.

"Apple _cinnamon_."

Quick as a bullet, Apple Bloom was at the table and stacking her plate with pancakes. "Oh sweet Celestia, I ain't been so happy ta see an apple in my life."

Rainbow laughed and Scootaloo rolled her eyes as Apple Bloom began to attack the defenseless pancakes. Between a gap in Apple Bloom's loud chewing, Scootaloo asked, "Where's Sweetie Belle? She awake yet?"

Apple Bloom simply nodded and continued to eat away.

No more than a minute later, Sweetie Belle walked down the steps, took a seat next to Scootaloo, and began to eat with nary a word.

"Sleep well?" Scootaloo asked with a smile, proud of herself for beating Rainbow to the introduction punch.

"No," Sweetie responded, looking Scootaloo dead in the eyes. It was then that Scootaloo noticed the bags under Sweetie Belle's eyes. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but was cut off by Rainbow.

"Now that you dears are all awake," she said, "I must tell you something. I'm going to have to make a quick errand run—to some shops and the market specifically. I'll be back in time for lunch. Make yourselves at home, but please, if you'd refrain from destroying my store I would be ever so grateful."

The three fillies nodded.

"Have fun and be safe," Rainbow chirped as she walked out the door.

As soon as the sounds of hooves on cobblestone graced her ears, Scootaloo spoke.

"Alright girls, go upstairs and get ready."

Apple Bloom groaned. "Really, Scoots?"

"Yes. I've got a plan now. I'm serious." She paused, then continued. "You're going to follow me wherever I go once I leave this shop, correct?"

"If I don't keep my eye on ya, you'll get killed for sure," Apple Bloom grumbled.

Scootaloo sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for all the running away crap from earlier. I'm not doing that again. I'm giving you a warning this time. I'll be leaving in..." Her voice drifted off as she stole a glance at the cuckoo clock hanging on a corner wall. "... five minutes. You girls can follow—if you do, I'm cool with that—or you can just leave me be. Which I'm also cool with."

Apple Bloom stared at the pancakes. "I can take some'a these with me?"

"If they'll fit in your saddlebags."

"Okay then..." Apple Bloom sighed, scooted back her chair, and began to walk up the stairs. Sweetie Belle followed soon after. Once they were both out of the room, Scootaloo gave the kitchen a quick once over, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, and then headed towards the staircase.

As she ascended, the words she had told Rainbow echoed through her mind.

_Everything we do... we do together_.

As the thought crossed her mind, the faintest of smiles tugged at her lips, and she whispered to herself.

"Cutie Mark Crusaders adventurers... yay."


	11. How Fast We Burn, How Fast We Cry

A cloud to lay on, a beautiful sunset painting mountains and sky a dazzling shade of orange, and Rainbow Dash beside her. Though she was but eleven years young, Scootaloo doubted there would ever be another moment that could possibly top this one. The only thing that could possibly beat this moment would be for her and Rainbow Dash to soar across the sky, performing awe-inspiring stunts, and taking down a plethora of raging dragons by themselves. _Now, that_,she thought, _would be awesome!_

Up in the sky, the air was chilly and the breeze, strong. Once or twice, Scootaloo found herself shivering, but she kept it as subdued as possible—there was nothing cool about getting cold; she was a_pegasus_ for heaven's sake. Pegasi only got cold in the darkest corners of space, and even then it was only the hairs on their forelegs standing up. No, she wasn't cold. The shivers were probably just nerves. No matter how often she hung out with Rainbow Dash the butterflies never went away.

She looked up at Rainbow and found herself unable to fight a grin. It hadn't stopped being awesome; she doubted that it ever would. With a blissful sigh, she lay her chin upon her crossed forelegs and watched a flock of birds fly by—drops of black paint against a most alluring canvas. Scootaloo briefly wondered if she should attempt getting a painting cutie mark. Sure, her mouth-eye coordination was about as good as a rock's, but she had never attempted to earn a painting cutie mark. Her father was a sculptor, and she seemed to have adopted everything else from him, so, while there was nothing 'cool,' 'awesome,' or 'radical' about living out the rest of her days drawing flowers floating in a pond, there was still a chance that that could be her destiny. Were artistic skills genetic?

She looked to the side, expecting to find the answers drawn across the sky. Instead, she caught a glimpse of Rainbow Dash glancing at her through what she could only call 'tired' eyes. The look only lasted a split-second, but it was long enough for Scootaloo. Her interests were piqued and the silence was getting old.

"So," Scootaloo began, "that was some race, huh?"

Rainbow chuckled, looking off to the side. "Yeah, it was."

Scootaloo nodded and sighed, running her hoof through the cloud top, sending tiny plumes floating off into the sunset. "I swear, Rainbow," she said. "Today might just—no, is the best day ever." She giggled and her wings fluttered, a sound like a buzzing bee filling the air. Rainbow's lips curved upward, but only slightly, and her teeth remained hidden from view.

"I guess you could say that," she mumbled.

A wave of cold fear washed over Scootaloo. Was Rainbow not having a good time? Was she little more than a burden to Rainbow? She told herself that that couldn't be, but the voice persisted. _You're annoying her. She hates you. She's gonna abandon you. Just like Mom. Just like everypony. _It took a herculean effort to force a clenched smile, and she wiped her damp mane out of her eyes, trying to play it cool as she dabbed up the beads of sweat with her foreleg. When she spoke again, her voice shook like a china cabinet in an earthquake.

"What'cha mean?" She aimed her gaze to match Rainbow's. It was clear that something was distracting Dash—she hoped it wasn't her—and that 'something' was located right in the heart of Ponyville.

Like a tumbling boulder, it hit her.

"Oh..." She let the word ring out, and Rainbow's eyes only jittered more. An impish smile spread across Scootaloo's lips. _Oh, this is too rich..._

Scootaloo tried her best to keep her composure, but by the time she spoke again, she couldn't hold off the giggles. "Something bothering you?" She lightly punched Dash's side. Rainbow kept staring and inched away from Scootaloo ever so slightly. For most ponies, this would be a sign to keep quiet. For Scootaloo, it was a sign to egg on. "Yeah, you've definitely got something on your mind." Her smile only widened as Dash's wings fidgeted.

Rainbow blinked. "I... Scoots, what the hay are you goin' on about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No..." Rainbow rubbed the back of her head with a wing. "No, I really don't."

Scootaloo sighed. She went over the possible approaches. She settled on 'blunt.' "What's going on with you and Twilight?"

Rainbow recoiled, a sneer growing on her face. "Now just where'd... you... get... oh..." She groaned and placed her hooves against her face, muttering, "This is perfect. Just perfect."

Scootaloo found herself at a crossroads: let the whole thing slide or prod Dash until the answers fell out? Maybe in the past, she'd have chosen the former, but she'd grown comfortable around Rainbow—too comfortable, maybe—and she went for the latter.

"What's the matter, Dash? Cat got your tongue?" Scootaloo smirked. "Or is it a certain librarian—"

"Shut it, Scoots!" Rainbow said, pushing Scootaloo, nearly rolling her onto her back. For a second, it seemed like Rainbow was about ready to sock her right in the face—what with her glare and snarl—but Dash'd always had a weak facade, and the growls quickly devolved into cackles.

"Oh, man," she said. "You should have seen the look on your face."

"What look?" Scootaloo asked. "That look of me being totally not scared?"

"Whatever." Rainbow wiped her eyes. "Oh man, you looked—I'm surprised you didn't, like, wet yourself."

"At least I'm not the one who gets all freaked out when somebody mentions their 'top-secret' marefriend," Scootaloo mumbled.

Dash laughter stopped on a dime, her face seeming to turn to stone. "What'd you say?"

"You heard me." Scootaloo felt as though she were treading over a minefield, but she pressed forward. "Just spit it out, Rainbow. You and Twilight are totally doing it, and I interrupted you guys right before you could get started with your... 'reading session?' Is that what you guys call it? Not a bad decoy, Dash. Not bad at all."

Rainbow just continued to stare, her mouth hanging open.

"Still, though. Twilight?" Scootaloo shook her head, giving a single chuckle. "Gotta admit, I didn't see this coming. The bird and the bookworm—" She was cut off by a shaky hoof over her mouth. Her blood ran cold, and she looked up, expecting to see Dash's eyes narrowed or lips quivering—hurt because of her actions alone. _It'd be fitting. What haven't I ruined lately? _

What Scootaloo saw was much more shocking. Rainbow was in tears, and her wing covered her mouth. Behind it all, Scootaloo could hear giggles. "You... Wow!" Rainbow said between gasps for air. "You actually think me and Twilight... Bwahhaha!" She fell backward. "Scoots, you gotta stop this. I'm about to have a heart attack here. Oh, Celestia I can't breathe, heeheeheh."

Scootaloo simply glowered and waited for Dash's spell to pass. Her tapping hoof had worn a hole in the top of the cloud by the time Rainbow caught her breath. With a sigh, Rainbow ruffled Scootaloo's mane and gave a small smile.

"Sorry, squirt, but... Me? And—hehheh—and Twilight? Don't get me wrong, she's cool and all, but—"

"I'm not an idiot," Scootaloo groused. "I saw the way she looked at you. Kids in my class aren't that obvious! And don't get me started on how you looked, like, five seconds ago."

"Look, I..." She groaned. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to explain this—boring as Tuesday—but... looks like you ain't gonna let this go, so..." She looked to her right and left, scanned the sky above her and peered underneath the cloud. "Alright, you've gotta Pinkie promise not to tell anypony about any of this, okay?"

"Why? If there's noth—"

"Just do it, Scoots!"

"Alright, alright..." Scootaloo waved a foreleg in the air as she said, "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." She sighed. "There. Ya happy?"

"Sure. So, I take it you want the short version of this?"

"Yeah."

"Okay..." Rainbow took a deep breath before she began, "As you noticed, Twi's crushing on me. Has been for... a month now? Maybe longer, I dunno. All I know is that about a month ago, she started crushing. Like, not even subtly. I'm talkin' stumbling over her own words and hooves when I'm around, always wanting me to come over and read with her, and blushing so much I can feel it." She sighed. "The worst part is that she's playing me for a fool. Hasn't said a word about it, but... I can tell. I know her. She's just calculating, waiting for the right time—or at least her legs to stop shaking and tongue to come untied long enough—to tell me. Ask me out. All that fun stuff."

Scootaloo opened her mouth to speak, but Rainbow cut her off. "And I hope she doesn't bring it up, 'cause..." She rubbed her forehead with a hoof. "I really don't wanna hurt her."

"So, I take it you're not into mares, then?"

"Not into relationships, period," Dash said. "I've been in a relationship before, and the only thing it got me was pain and problems. Twi's nice, but..." She sighed again. "I'm just going with it. She asks me to read with her, and I read. She asks me to have lunch with her, and I come over. She asks me to just spend the night with her, and I'll sit out with her and stargaze until she falls asleep. And if she wants somepony to talk to, I'll listen. I know it's all just her trying to build up the courage to ask me out, or at least just so she can be around me, but... well, she's nice to hang out with, once you get past the lectures and science and lack of a funny bone. Still, I'm hoping she stays a coward. If she ever asks, I'll have to give her an answer; that, of course, will be 'no.' And if—no, when I do, she might not wanna hang with me anymore, and... well, that's something I really don't want. I must be boring the feathers off ya right now, huh?"

"Kinda," Scootaloo muttered. She had to admit that Dash pouring her soul out made her more than a little bit uncomfortable, but it'd be a jerk move to complain. She couldn't count how many times she had bored Dash with long ramblings about anything and everything. It was only fair that Rainbow Dash got her turn on the soapbox from time to time.

Rainbow laughed and lightly hit Scootaloo's side. "Yeah, well, deal with it. Heh. Bored myself a little bit there. How 'bout we inject something cool into all this crap?"

"Cool is good," Scootaloo said. "What'd you have in mind?"

"You ever seen the old castle?"

"What's that?"

"Perfect." Rainbow chuckled and stood up. She stretched and gave her wings a few practice flaps before leaning down and saying, "Hop on."

"Huh?"

"You said you wanted to do something 'cool,' didn't ya?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Scootaloo rubbed the back of her neck. "'Old castle?' Doesn't exactly sound like 'cool' to me. More like, 'lame.'"

"Just hop on," Rainbow said. "Trust me. Once you see this place, you'll be eating those words. This place is sweet."

"Well..." It was either go with Rainbow or go back home. In the end, she wondered why she even had to debate it. "Sure, why not?" She climbed onto Dash's back, laying down and pressing her hooves against Rainbow's side. Rainbow's coat smelled of an evening summer rain and Scootaloo could feel the muscles in her back flex as her wings began to move. Scootaloo hoped that, one day, she could be this strong—this awesome. With a sigh, she turned her head, resting her cheek on Rainbow's back. She watched the world turn sideways as Rainbow took flight, and was awestruck as clouds came into her field of vision and scurried off like frightened mice. An incessant breeze hit her face, causing her mane to slap against her like dozens of little whips, but she didn't mind the pain. She was in the air, with Rainbow Dash. If the world chose to turn off the lights at this very moment, she would be satisfied.

"Hanging in there, squirt?"

"Yeah," Scootaloo replied. As Rainbow continued to soar, Scootaloo felt herself drifting off—the clouds and breeze were the best lullabies. "Wake me when we get there."

Rainbow simply laughed. It was such a beautiful noise.

The last thing she saw as her eyelids began to droop was a large black cloud floating into her vision. A bright flash of lightning filled her vision, and...

* * *

><p>"Scoot!" came a familiar, accented voice. The shout was followed by an object colliding with the side of Scootaloo's head. She blinked a few times, focusing her vision and mind, and found herself staring out the salt-covered and scratched window of a ship.<p>

_Wait... ship?! What the..._

At first, she thought she was hallucinating. However, a sniff of the air only brought the sent of salt and seasickness to her nostrils. She glanced down, out the window, and nearly gasped. Below her lay a weathered deck. Several dirty ponies walked around on the planks and scooped up ropes and whatnot in their teeth while considerably cleaner ponies looked on with what could only be disgust. The world lurched to the side, and she was just barely able to catch a glimpse of wakes drifting into the side of the massive hull. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and looked up again, focusing on their destination—whatever it was. Squinting, she could make out the cramped silhouettes of hundreds upon thousands of trees on what she could only guess was part of... Vanhoover Island?

Yes, it had to be Vanhoover Island. That's where everything was telling her to go. Where she had been going before...

_How did I get here?_

"Are you even listenin' ta me?" Apple Bloom asked, her voice shaking like a spring in an earthquake.

"No, not really," she said with a shrug. "What were we talking about?"

"That's the thing. I've been tryin' ta talk to ya for the last hour, and you ain't said anything. Just been staring off into space like some kinda zombie."

"No, I've..." The words drifted with Scootaloo's glassy eyes—off into the distance. There were storm clouds far to the right of the edge of the island. She could only see the tops of the billowing, dark gray clouds. Still, in spite of them being way away, they made her wings twitch. She could see faint flashes and smell the distinctive scent of rain. Looking back towards the island, she could make out rocks and fallen tree trunks littering the cost, and ponies waddling amongst them. They weren't far away, and for that she was thankful, but still... the sooner they got there, the better.

"Danggit, Scoots, pay attention!" Apple Bloom roared, slamming her hoof against a table top to the point of cracking it and reeling in Scootaloo's attention—along with the shocked or incensed stares of many of the fellow patrons. It was as the salt shakers began to rattle under Apple Bloom's ire that Scootaloo realized she was in a dining room of some sorts. Had she eaten yet? Some hay fries sounded pretty good about now. She looked at the table, noticed that there were no crumbs to be found, and then looked up at Apple Bloom. She opened her mouth to speak, but it simply swung on its hinges as she took in her friends' states.

Apple Bloom glared at her, leaning forward on the table, its plastic top sounding off like a hundred firecrackers under her weight. Her mane was disheveled, as though she had just returned from a year-long trek through a plain of tornados. Scootaloo could have sworn it was combed and neat as could be before they'd left Rainbow's shop that morning. Her bow had been tied immaculately, most likely due to Rainbow's surprising skill and unrelenting insistence. Now, it was but a long strand of pink ribbon draped over her neck. Scootaloo was shocked to find her face covered with dirt and scratches—some of them still dripping blood.

Whereas Apple Bloom bore the look of a vengeful mare, Sweetie Belle resembled a little filly that had just seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide, but glazed: aimed at her hooves. Her mane was a mess as well, but hers had a little extra when it came to its filthy stat. Remnants of oranges littered her loose curls—pulp, skin and all. Normally, such a sight would incite a giggle fit; now, it only caused the pit in Scootaloo's stomach to grow more and more hollow. The questions that taunted her were simple questions with simple answers. Who? What? When? Where? Why? And the thing that terrified her was that she didn't have the slightest clue what the answers could be.

She was losing focus. She was losing memories. She was losing her mind.

"Uh... hehheh" Scootaloo gave a toothy grin. "What'd I miss?"

"Well, let's see," Apple Bloom said, shaking her head before setting her fiery eyes back on her. "Ya came upstairs and grabbed your saddlebag and walked outta the shop without even tellin' us. We thought ya were tryin' ta run off, but... no. Ya were simply shufflin' on like some kinda robot or somethin'. Ya didn't flinch when I tackled ya—" At the mention of 'tackle,' Scootaloo felt a stinging jolt course through her forelegs and belly. She looked down and cringed as she saw dirty, bloody scratches covering her body as well. "—and ya didn't change expression at all when I asked—well, yelled—'_What's your dang problem?' _Ya just stared off like this..." She paused and stared at the table, mouth hanging open, a strand of drool rolling down her chin and landing on the white counter. Scootaloo could only guess it was accurate. "...and then ya kept walking. All the way to the dang harbor."

"Huh," Scootaloo muttered. "I don't remember any of that." She shook her head. "Jeez... what... did..." The words fell away with her stomach. This couldn't be. It just couldn't. She wanted to scream, to cry, to fall down and beg and plead for answers. A groan escaped her throat as she rubbed an eye with her hoof. "Okay, so I was out of it. That doesn't explain how we got here. Or why you two..." At that moment, she caught her reflection in the glass. Dark rings surrounded her bloodshot eyes. Cuts lined her cheeks, and as she leaned down to check a bump on her forehead, she noticed a bald spot near the front of her mane. "Okay, doesn't explain why the _three_

"I was gettin' to that." Apple Bloom took a deep breath before continuing, "In case ya didn't know, we're not exactly rolling in bits, and we didn't have enough to buy tickets to go to this island you're so adamant 'bout gettin' to for whatever reason."

"The temple," Scootaloo said, voice just above a whisper.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, instead of doing the smart thing and just walkin' away and forgettin' all this crap, you decided that we should sneak aboard."

"Did I tell you to or—"

"Oh, I clearly remember you remarkin' about oranges 'suiting my face.'"

"Wait. Oranges. What about oranges?"

Apple Bloom sighed, muttering something under her breath before speaking again. "We stowed away in a crate of oranges. Ya thought that it would be a 'quick and easy' way to get in, so we climbed in, and proceeded ta get _nailed in the dang box!" _She ducked down in her seat, seemingly surprised by her own volume, and looked around sheepishly, muttering a quick "sorry." She looked back to Scootaloo. "So, yeah, we got nailed in a box of oranges, Sweetie started freaking out, I started kicking you, you started kicking me—I got more good hits in, if I do say so myself—and overall, it was hell. A cramped, citrus-y hell. You're lucky these legs were built for apple buckin', or you'd probably drowned in pulp."

"So, we pretty much broke into this boat?"

"Yeah."

"How'd we get up here?"

"Very carefully," Apple Bloom remarked as she dropped down from her seat. "Luckily, they can't really throw ya off a boat for not having a ticket. Ya know, drowning and all that. Anyways, I'm going to the big fillies' room." And with that, she was off, leaving Scootaloo to sit in a stew of her own confusion.

_C'mon, think... you gotta remember something! Think. Think!_

Alas, it was like trying to remember her own birth. There was a loud thump as her chin fell against the table. Her cut chin screamed out in protest. She tried to blow a loose bang out of her eyes a few times, but her mane was damp and she was forced to shove it away with a hoof. Pushing the errant strands was no easy task—this did her simmering frustrations no favors. After three increasingly rougher swipes, a few bits stayed stuck to her forehead, poking at her eye like imps. With a grunt, she smacked at them once more. A yelp filled the air not soon after. As she rubbed her sorer than ever head, she heard a single high-pitched squeak. She glared daggers. Sweetie Belle covered her mouth before glancing out the window.

Unfortunately for her, Scootaloo had seen the whole thing.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

Sweetie Belle didn't answer, or even look her way.

"Not going to answer?"

Sweetie remained silent.

"I don't like ponies laughing at me."

"Scootaloo, I wasn't laughing at you... I was just... never mind."

Scootaloo wasn't satisfied. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you, Scoots!" Sweetie Belle's voice shook, and for a brief moment, Scootaloo thought she saw anger in her eyes. "Stop accusing me of... everything! Jeez." With a huff, Sweetie Belle turned her attention back out the window.

"Fine, be a bitch." Scootaloo wanted to punch herself in the nose as soon as the words left her mouth. Sweetie Belle didn't respond at first, but her gaze briefly darted to Scootaloo, and they were filled with nothing but pain.

"Sweetie, I... I am _so _sorry. I'm just... I'm so confused right now and... angry and... Jeez, I'm sorry." Sweetie Belle didn't even look her way. Scootaloo couldn't blame her. "I'm sorry," she repeated. She too glanced out the window. There was nothing much to look at, but she was okay with that. She didn't deserve to be entertained at the moment. Didn't deserve much of anything.

She sighed, blinked a few times, and let her mind drift back off into the...

* * *

><p><em>The living room was quiet. She could hear the ticking of the clock hammering into her ears; she hated it. Her mom sat on the couch, patting the seat beside her.<em>

"_Scootaloo," she said. "Sit down, honey."_

_Scootaloo groaned and stamped on the floor. "But mooooommmm, I was just about to go over to Apple Bloom's. We're gonna try to earn our bungee jumping cutie marks!"_

_Flare Chaser smiled. "Hmm, have you earned a knot-tying cutie mark yet?"_

"_No."_

"_Then how can you be sure you aren't going to get hurt?"_

"_I... We... Ugh. You're no fun."_

"_I've been called worse," Flare Chaser giggled. "Anyway, have a seat. I promise it won't be long."_

"_Okay..." Scootaloo tried to hop up on the couch, but her usual stool had been moved. She fluttered her wings, hoping that it would give her enough lift; it was all in vain. She sighed and kicked the couch. "Stupid tall thing." She looked up at her mother with defeated eyes. Flare Chaser smiled, reached down, and placed her on the cushion beside her. The couch was fluffy and soft—felt just like a cloud._

"_Alright. I have some great news!" her mother said, her wings twitching in excitement. Scootaloo's wings twitched as well._

"_What is it?" she asked._

"_Scootaloo... you're going to be a sister!"_

_Her jaw could have hit the ground. She was surprised it didn't. "A... sister?"_

"_Yes, honey."_

_There was a long pause before the widest, brightest smile spread across Scootaloo's face. "This is so awesome!" She stood up and began to jump up and down on the couch, singing, "I'm gonna be a sister! I'm gonna be a sister! Oh this is so cool. I'm gonna teach her to fly, and do backflips on a scooter, and put tacks on Diamond Tiara's chair an—" She was silenced by a hoof over her mouth. She looked up at her mother, and she looked at her, and then Scootaloo squealed and jumped into her mother's forelegs, entering the warmest of hugs. "I love you, mommy."_

"_I love you too, Scootaloo."_

* * *

><p>Scootaloo was brought to by the muffled blare of the ship's horn. A chill blew through the dining area as passengers shuffled out the door. It wasn't until Apple Bloom practically pulled her down from the bench that she followed suit.<p>

The scent of salt water and pine hit her as soon as she stepped out of the door. A fog had fallen over the island, and she could only barely make out the tops of spruce trees peeking out the top of the veil. She didn't have much room to take in the surroundings, as she was quickly pushed forward by Apple Bloom.

Her hooves touched sand, and the view hadn't cleared in the slightest. Through the wispy brume, she could make out black forms, walking around like a scene out of a Hayman comic. Scootaloo gulped and tried to back away, but Apple Bloom would have none of it, and she was only pushed forward with more force. Eventually, she was able to regain control of her own legs, and she walked over to a nearby log—knees wobbling every step of the way—and plopped down. Two sighs rang through the air: the first being Scootaloo's relieved moan—her hind legs were still asleep—and the second one being Apple Bloom's much rougher exhale. Sweetie Belle stood back, staring at her hooves. Scootaloo couldn't bear to look at her._How could I be such a jerk?_

"_Because that's what you are. Nothing more."_

_And what do you mean by that?_

The voice didn't respond: it knew it was wrong. Or was it that it knew it had won, and all other words would be pointless? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She _had _called Sweetie Belle a... she didn't even want to remember the word anymore. Heat rose in her throat and she punched the log once. Twice. Three times. She would have gone on into the dozens, had Apple Bloom not grabbed her foreleg.

"What is wrong with you?!" she said, voice quavering. Scootaloo saw no anger in her eyes, rather they were alight with... fright? No, that couldn't be it. Could it? Were they scared of her? If so, she couldn't blame them; _she _was scared of her. She groaned. _Get it together. _She lifted her hoof, thinking that a good slap across the face would hammer the word into her damned skull. A quick glance at her friends' faces silenced the thought._ Get it together!_

"_Yes, get it together. That makes the explosion so much bigger. Brighter. Deadlier"_

_Shut up. You're a voice. All talk and no walk._

"_I speak the truth. You walk a road of lies."_

_Yeah, whatever. Buzz off and let me think already._

"_Hmm... yeah, sure. Nothing quite as entertaining as stupidity, and let me tell you, you're a prime purveyor of that."_

With a grunt, she threw her saddlebags on the ground and nearly tore their tops open. "Just a voice," she whispered while she sifted through the contents. "Just a voice." Her nose met the book, inciting a yip, and she took it between her teeth and pulled it out. A smile spread on her lips as she stroked the cover. The voice always shut up when the book was around; this time was no different. All she could hear was the gentle rush of winds and waves, and the heavy tapping of a hoof.

She didn't need to look up. She could _feel _their gazes. Their questions. Their worry.

"Heh, uh, sorry about... all this, I, umm, just, uh... got a lot on my mind," she said, her throat burning with each word. She cleared it and continued, "So, looks like we're here." She kicked at one of the many pebbled littering the sand, but found her hind legs to be too short to reach it. Grunting, she dipped her muzzle back into her saddlebag and emerged with three maps—and one sheet of coupons for a restaurant called _Aether's Genuine Pegasonian Cuisine. _She lay the maps next to her on the log and ran a hoof over them as she checked for the Vanhoover Island map. A chiming of "A-ha"filled the air, and Scootaloo knocked two maps back in the general direction of her bag—one only partially falling into the opening and the other landing face-down in the sand—while placing the third on her lap. She couldn't help but sigh a little as she opened the map and saw an accurate, honest-to-Celestia map of Vanhoover Island staring back at her. _Don't know what I was expecting. _She gave a light chuckle at the thought.

"Alright," she said, tapping the map with one hoof while rubbing her head with the other. "We're on the southeastern coast of the island, at..." She looked towards a gathering of ponies near a large display board. Squinting, she could barely make out the words 'Landing' and a 'v.' Moving her gaze back to the map, her eyes almost immediately fell upon a dot with the name 'Thieves' Landing' printed beside it. She gave the faintest of smiles. Getting too excited would, inevitably, lead to disappointment, but a tiny bit wouldn't hurt. She cleared her throat and continued.

"So, we're at Thieves' Landing. That's here—" She slapped the map hard enough that she was surprised when it _didn't _tear. "—and the temple we're going to is, according to the book is up here, around the center of the island." She paused and briefly glanced at Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle's faces. Unsurprisingly, they both bore a perturbed look. "Now, the book didn't give away much in terms of directions—one of those, skip the adventure, straight to the plot points kinda book. Of course, it wastes time it could spend giving an accurate telling of Daring Do's journey discussing what Daring had for breakfast and describing the legs of all the mare characters, but that's, heh, that's got nothing to do with any of this. Why am I even mentioning it?" She looked Apple Bloom dead in the eye, then Sweetie Belle (glancing into those still hurting eyes twisted her stomach like a wringer), and then Apple Bloom again. She expected them to have the answers; she wasn't sure why.

"Anyways," she continued, "the book _did _tell of a landmark close by. It's located in this park area—according to this map, mountains everywhere—and is located a stone's throw from this formation called... uh, hold on a sec..." Muttering gibberish and swears, Scootaloo opened the book to a dog-eared page. "Ah, here we go. 'Raven Rock.'" As she closed the book and placed it on the log again, she couldn't help but shoot a smug smile in Apple Bloom's direction. "So, this Raven Rock is a real place, here on this island. In fact..."_Pause for dramatic effect... and go! _"It's located beside the Pisgah Trail, which just so happens to start right over..." She turned and pointed her hoof towards a thick area of brush. Just between the trees and shrubs, a narrow, dark path could be made out.

There was a long pause before Apple Bloom finally spoke. "Ya sure?"

"Uh, yeah. There's a sign right there."

"No, are ya sure that this temple place ain't nothing but another dang lie."

"No," Scootaloo said, tapping her hoof against the map in triplets, "but I'm not sure that it_doesn't_exist either. The only way to find out is to buck up and just go."

Apple Bloom sighed. "How far away is this place, Scoots? A day? A week? In case ya didn't notice, we ain't exactly prepared for a long trip here."

"It's a day's hike at the longest. Seriously, it's only a nineteen kilometer hike."

"I ain't riskin' my life chasin' ghosts."

"And I'm tired of them haunting me!" Scootaloo yelled. "We've come too far to just give up because you're scared of getting a little thirsty. Hay, I didn't ask for you girls to come, and yet you came anyway. I'm going to go down that trail until I get to that temple."

"And what if it doesn't—"

"Oh, stuff it, Apple Bloom. This world was built on taking chances. I'm taking mine." She jumped down from the log, tossed the book and map into her saddlebags, scooped them up, and trudged towards the trail.

"Have it your way!" Apple Bloom practically screamed. Scootaloo didn't hear her—she had already disappeared amongst the shadows. Apple Bloom sighed. "C'mon, Sweetie Belle. Let's go. We'll tell the police she's here. I'm sure they can find her before she gets herself kill—Sweetie, where are you going?"

Sweetie Belle didn't respond. She simply galloped off and down the same path. Apple Bloom's jaw nearly hit the ground. At first there was only silence and squeaks, but she was eventually able to close her mouth, and with a shake of her head and a loud groan she marched down the trail as well. "Ya've gotta be kidding me," she grumbled as the trees blotted out the sun.

* * *

><p>The hoofsteps had been following Scootaloo since less than a kilometer into her hike. She knew that they'd follow her. They always had; there was no reason for them to start abandoning her now. Still, she refused to acknowledge them. The closest step to hers had grown less frantic and more hesitant on their approach. Of course she wouldn't let her down—why Sweetie Belle was so friendly and loyal to a jackass like her was a mystery that she doubted she would ever solve. Of course, even though she had her back, it was clear she didn't want much to do with Scootaloo. <em>Who could blame her? <em>When the second pair stomped up behind her, low, harsh whispers followed, but Scootaloo ignored them. Whatever drama had come between them was no concern of hers. Her mind was set on only the trail and the temple; everything else was white noise and shadows.

Occasionally, her mind would be grasped by her surroundings, and it was a wonder she didn't fall flat on her face. Every step seemed to take her past a new piece of beauty: a distant snowy peak peering through the branches of towering pines, the sun reflecting off the surface of a serene lake, flowers of all shapes and colors. Sure, Scootaloo didn't like to admit it, but she really did think nature was beautiful. Not extreme or awesome, but pleasant and cool.

She climbed over a log and fell in the dirt on the other side. The hike was difficult, especially for a pony smaller than some of the trunks that had fallen across the path—but that only made it more fun. A gentle stroll through the wildflowers would grow old after a while. At least in this case, she had to focus on where she was stepping. One misplaced hoof on a loose rock could lead to a sprained ankle, or worse. She liked the risk. After all, risk equaled reward—or so she'd been told. Rainbow had always hammered it into her skull that a great flyer didn't become so by flying in slow circles. They became great when they risked life and limb. Hay, every hero she'd ever read about in those dusty old history books in school—the few times that she opened the things—had only become heroes after they threw caution into the wind. If she didn't find a temple out here, too bad. Still, she _would_ find the temple. She had to. And, if she didn't, well, nothing in the world ever had a single path.

She treaded around a bend and nearly face-first into a giant boulder—as wide as the path and nearly a filly tall. Worse still, she couldn't get around it: a steep slope into a chasm hundreds of meters deep lay on one side, and a cliff wall lay on the other. There was only one way past it: over.

Whinnying and stamping the ground, she took her saddlebags off and tossed them over the rock. They landed on the other side with a soft thud, and Scootaloo sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. A grunt and a jump and her forelegs were draped over the top of the infernal slab. Kicking her hind legs against the side and flapping her wings like a pegasus being chased by a swarm of angry bees, she found a small "ledge"—probably only a centimeter wide—and, somehow, balanced herself on the end of her left hind hoof. She slapped her foreleg around the top of the stone, breathing heavy and sweating buckets, and was eventually able to find a small crevasse to jam her forehoof into. Adjusting her weight to make sure it was stuck in there snuggly, she pressed her right hind hoof against the wall, and pushed up. She did the same with her left hind leg, and slowly but surely pulled herself up onto the top of the rock.

Safe and sound atop the boulder, she lay on her back, wiped the veil of sweat and matted mane from her forehead, and watched the clouds pass by overhead. It was strange, seeing the clouds move on their own. It was as though they had their own intelligence. She couldn't help but notice that there was no mold to their shape. Each one was different in some way. From a typically-shaped, puffy cumulonimbus, to a dancing wisp of cirrus, to clouds shaped like dogs, cats, buggies, and even carrots, there was no set in stone design. They simply were.

The sound of tumbling pebbles and squeaks graced her ears. She turned her head just in time to see a white hoof disappear behind the rock, followed by a screech and a thump. Leaning over the edge, she burst into a fit of giggles immediately.

On the ground, in a heap, lay Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. Sweetie was on her back, eyes wide and forelegs locked against her chest as she gasped for air. Scootaloo could just make out the bow and askew legs just barely visible beneath the tufts of white, purple, and pink. Shaking her head, Scootaloo reached down with a foreleg. Sweetie Belle rolled onto her belly and quickly rose to her hooves. However, she seemed frightened of Scootaloo's foreleg, and backed away slightly, nearly tripping over a still-grounded Apple Bloom. Scootaloo sighed and shook her hoof. Eyes connecting with Sweetie Belle's, the ghost of a smile tugged at Scootaloo's lips, and she said, "C'mon. Grab on." Her voice was soft, but her words seemed to speak volumes, because Sweetie grabbed her hoof almost immediately.

Sweetie Belle was lightweight, even for a unicorn—some bullies at school had taken to calling her Skeletone... whatever that meant. Needless to say, lifting her up took little effort. Apple Bloom, on the other hoof, had the appetite of an ox and the muscles of a farmpony, not to mention two sets of saddlebags—and proved to be more of a chore. Sweetie Belle even had to join in, grabbing Scootaloo's ribs and pulling with all her might. Eventually, they were able to haul her up, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders were reunited once more. Again. For a split-second, time seemed to stop on a dime, and they found themselves staring at each other, smiling. It was strange; it didn't last long.

Sweetie started to giggle, then Scootaloo, and then Apple Bloom finally joined in. They knew not what they were laughing at or why. All they knew was that they were together. They also knew that the peace was unlikely to last. That's why they enjoyed these moments. All it took was one word to send one of them over the edge and leave everything as fractured as before.

And so they simply lay on their backs, hooves kicking in the air and tears tickling their eyelids as they reveled in the mere presence of one another. While it lasted, it was joyful and beautiful.

But, of course, it didn't last forever. Nothing did. There was always something lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce and mess things up even more than they had already been. What was worst: they were not always bad things. Good was often just as disastrous as bad.

Scootaloo was the first to stop laughing and the first to stand up. Chest still racked with giggles, she jumped down the other side of the boulder and scooped up her saddlebags. As she attempted to tighten them with her mouth—a task that had become easier with experience, but was still a royal pain in the wings—she noticed something reflecting sunlight in her direction. She squinted and could make out a bright flash of life seemingly hanging in midair. Without taking her eyes off the object, she reached into her saddlebags and pulled the map out. Not surprising, it fell to the ground. Irked beyond belief, she leaned down, eyes still set on the... thing, and grabbed the map in her teeth. It was as the familiar taste of paper tickled her tongue that it happened.

A plethora of deep caws rang out from somewhere off to her left, and the world was bathed in shadows. Scootaloo watched in a mix of awe and horror as hundreds of ravens flew over her head, circled a jet-black, pointed rock just off the path six times, and soared off to Celestia knows where. After the brief calamity had ended, silence reigned. None of the three Crusaders said a word or even seemed to take a breath. Then two and two came together, and Scootaloo hurriedly picked up the dusty map.

Not that it mattered. She knew exactly where she was. A quick look at the blurry photograph beside a red marker only made it undeniable. She looked up at her friends, shooting them a maniacal grin, and then towards the hovering light. Without a word, she charged forward, tripping over stones and twigs, narrowly dodging and getting slapped in the face by low-hanging branches. Her hooves and legs and ribs and throat all burned, but that didn't slow her down or wipe the smile from her face. "Oh please," she whispered between gasps for air. "Oh pleasepleaseplease!" She broke through the treeline, skidded to a halt, and felt the desire to fall on her knees and weep. Her legs turned to jelly and she collapsed in a heap on the ground—shaking all over—but no tears came. She was smiling too big.

Before her was a temple. _The _temple

"Oh, thank you." She kissed the ground. It tasted of grass, dirt, and a rekindled spark. "Thank you."

The sounds of heavy hoofsteps rushed up behind her, then skidded to a stop. Once again, silence permeated the world. Scootaloo looked up and took in the divine spectacle. It was just like the book had described it: as long as three houses, as tall as two, statues and golden symbols lining all the walls and beams, and in the middle, a single towering spire with a golden design resembling a griffon's talon hanging in the middle. Though she couldn't be sure, Scootaloo wouldn't be surprised if it was bigger than she was. For a second, Scootaloo had no desire to do anything but simply sit there and let the grass grow and overtake her. Then Apple Bloom spoke and knocked her out of her trance.

"Well, I'll be." She whistled. "Shoot... I... dang..." Scootaloo could hear her kick the dirt and had to bite her lip to keep from dissolving into cackles.

"Is this it, Scoots?" Sweetie Belle asked

"_Of course it isn't." _As always, the damned voice returned. Scootaloo had tried to give the voice a face. What she had come up with was an overweight stallion with a receding maneline, warts on his muzzle, and only two lower teeth resting on its gingivitis-ridden gums. Of course, it was a silly picture. As far as she could tell, the voice sounded just like her own. That, more than anything, was why she hated it, and the farther away from it she could get the better. _"You know this isn't actually it, right?" _the voice sneered._"Just some temple. Ain't no ticket to paradise in there."_

Scootaloo was about to respond, but held her mind and lip. She was tired of arguing, and the voice wasn't going to stop no matter how much she tried to defend herself. Instead, she ignored it and turned to Sweetie Belle, nodding. "Yes," she said, grinning ear-to-ear. "This is it."

"Wow..." Sweetie's mouth hung open as she tilted her head back and stared at the spire. Scootaloo allowed herself a single chuckle. A little smug satisfaction never hurt anypony, and, boy, did it feel good being right. She looked up to the sky behind Sweetie Belle, nearly directly at the sun. _Knew you wouldn't let me down, Rainbow. Just hold tight. I'll be comin' for you soon. _She made sure neither Sweetie Belle nor Apple Bloom were looking at her, lifted her foreleg to the sky and winked. Then, she started to strut towards the temple's front door.

"Let's check this place out!" she called out, casting a sly glance over back. "Whaddaya say?"

"Uh..." Apple Bloom dragged the word out and looked at Sweetie Belle—who merely shrugged. Apple Bloom shrugged herself and began to step forward. "Sure. Lead the way."

"With pleasure," Scootaloo said with a grin, and together they walked into the unknown.


	12. The Lion's Roar

Griffon architecture was something Scootaloo had no knowledge of, partially because history class was code for 'nap time' in her book, but mostly because every school she'd ever been to had ignored the history and culture of the griffons altogether. Hell, she hadn't even seen one in the flesh until Sal's tavern, and that was... well, an experience. Judging by that brief, probably alcohol-fueled altercation and one look at the interior of one of their temples, she felt as though she knew all that was worth knowing about griffons.

They were terrifying.

Statues leered over the three fillies as they made their way through the temple, their small hoofsteps echoing around like a thunderstorm. If Scootaloo hadn't had a good view of most of the large atrium, she would have guessed that a whole army was marching towards them. But, no, they were completely alone. There weren't even any birds perched on the fallen blocks of stone that littered the floor. Sunlight poured through a hole in the roof; it was the only light they had to go by. Luckily for them, the hole was just as large as the biggest houses in Ponyville, so they weren't in danger of walking face-first into any statues or pillars.

The statues themselves were the kind that Scootaloo would've expected from a horror comic: at least two or three stories in height, covered in moss and cracks—some missing entire limbs—that only served to make them more shiver-inducing, glaring eyes she feared were stalking her every step, mouths opened in a permanent, silent roar, and armor and weaponry seemed to be the only constant in their design besides nightmare fuel. Scootaloo was both fascinated and creeped out by them. Part of her wanted to go up to them, get a better look at their expressions, a better feel for what they were. Another part screamed at her to run away, wailing like a foal running from a clown. In the end neither side won out, and she just kept walking, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the monstrous forms every once in awhile.

"What is this place?" Apple Bloom suddenly called out, echoing back louder than it had come, inciting a series of small mumbles and whimpers. Sweetie Belle clasped a hoof over one ear, Apple Bloom's face turned as red as her mane, and Scootaloo stared straight ahead. An uneasy silence permeated the air, the only interruption being the howl of the wind as it blew over the opening. It was Sweetie Belle who finally broke the silence.

"It's a Temple of Proxis." Noticing the looks on her friends' faces, she added, "That's the griffon goddess of war." Sweetie Belle walked towards a large statue towards the back of the room, somehow avoiding the debris that seemed to cover every square of the centimeter despite never taking her eyes off the towering stone griffon. "This is her. Hmm..." She hopped up the steps and trotted up to the statue, reaching out with her hoof and rubbing it along the shaft of the sculpted warhammer grasped in the idol's talon. "Neat. This even has her holding _Sanguine_, the weapon she supposedly used to take out an entire goblin army at the Battle of Pinon Peak!"

Scootaloo looked over to Apple Bloom, who shrugged, then back to Sweetie Belle. "Uh..."

"One swing could take down dozens of goblins, at least according to legend." She smiled and looked around. "Hey, they even have statues of her twelve followers, 'The Spears.' Let's see, there's Tullius, Paulix—"

"Okay, we get it, we get it!" Scootaloo groaned. "Jeez, how do you know all this stuff anyway?"

Sweetie Belle blushed and rubbed one of her forelegs with the other, eyes set on the floor, unwavering. "I... well, I... uh, read about it. I... um, I kinda like history."

"Huh, ya never struck me as being into that stuff," Apple Bloom said. "Ya always struck me as one of them artsy-fartsy types, what with your singin' and all."

"Oh, I definitely do love art, but... I dunno, I just think it's... interesting stuff."

"Yeah, _really_ interesting," Scootaloo scoffed.

Apple Bloom nudged her shoulder. "You're just jealous 'cause she passed history class and you didn't."

"Hey, I passed it." She snorted before mumbling, "Eventually." Suddenly, her ears perked up. "Wait!" Within seconds, she was nose-to-nose with Sweetie Belle. "Did you say 'Goddess of War?!'"

"Uh, yeah," Sweetie Belle said, leaning back against the tribute to the subject of their conversation. "Why'd I know you'd only care about the violent part?"

"No, no. I mean that's pretty awesome, especially the part 'bout smashing in the skulls of goblins, but—"

"I didn't say anything about smashing—"

"—'Goddess of War!'" In a flash, Scootaloo's saddlebags were on the floor and opened wide. The top half of her body disappeared within them and, after a few muttered curses and an angry tossing of a couple of maps, she emerged with _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool_ firmly clutched between her teeth. She dropped it on the ground, falling to her knees herself, and flipped it open. "Let's see... Vanhoover Island... Raven Rock... Ah! Here we are!" She cleared her throat and began to read.

"'What is this?' Pallah asked, running a hoof across the statute. It was at least as tall as four ponies standing on each other's backs. In its grip was a hammer, and on its face it bore a most callous gaze. Daring shivered and frowned. 'The Goddess of War.'"

Scootaloo couldn't even hide her grin as she placed the book back into her saddlebags. Being right tasted oh so sweet. As she lifted her bags back onto her back, she made sure to shoot Apple Bloom a sly glance and the smuggest of grins. Apple Bloom just rolled her eyes.

"This is so weird," Sweetie Belle said, her voice almost a whistle. "The griffons are from the 'Fertile Sands' region, way down in the southeast. Why would they have a temple all the way up here?"

"Who knows, who cares?" Scootaloo answered. "Come on!" With a grunt, she vaulted over a toppled pillar and headed over to the far right wall, looking over every inch of each statue and pillar.

"What are ya doin'?" Apple Bloom called out. "Lookin' for somethin'?

"There's supposed to be a switch to a trap door 'round here somewhere..." Scootaloo reached out and pushed on a flower-shaped carving. It didn't budge. She moved on to an unlit torch, pushing down on it with all her might. Again, it didn't move an inch. And then she reached the last statue in the row.

It was a griffon, as they all were, but unlike the others, this one had no weapons. Instead, its talons curled over the base, the stone itself sharp enough to cut herself on. A single tip pointed outwards, directly at Scootaloo's chest. She beamed. _Bingo_. Rearing back on her hind legs, she took the talon in her grasp and pushed down on it with all her might.

Nothing happened.

Groaning, Scootaloo pressed down again. Nothing happened. Her face was red, partially because of the burning muscles in her forelegs, and partially because of the giggles emitting from the direction of a certain bow-wearing pony. She bit her lip and climbed up, placing all four hooves on the outstretched digit, her wings spread as far as they could muster in an attempt to keep her balanced. Then, she jumped, somehow managing to land without falling on her face. She took a deep breath and jumped again, the time having to wave a foreleg around in large circles to keep from toppling over. _Third time's the charm_, she thought as she crouched down and forced every last bit of energy into her legs. She jumped so high that she was surprised she didn't hit the roof. When she landed, the talon fell away with a loud click, and she fell to the ground with a pathetic yelp. Coughing and whimpering, she looked up, wiping the dust and grime off her throbbing face, and locked eyes with Apple Bloom.

"Way ta go, Scoots," she said with a shake of her head. "Ya just defaced a priceless artifact. Heh he—"

The room began to tremble, as if a million buffalo were stampeding across the temple floor. Clouds of dust rose from the floor while slabs of rock fell to the ground. Scootaloo cried out, but it was lost in the chaos. She dropped into a prone position and covered her head with her forelegs. It was just as she was accepting the fact that she was about to die that the quaking ceased. At first she thought she was dead, but then she heard Apple Bloom's giggling, as annoying and damnable as ever. Uncovering her head and opening her eyes into a glare, she stood. She opened her mouth, her mind going through the many insults it contained, trying to pick the best zinger, but all thoughts halted at the sight behind Apple Bloom. "Woah..." was all she could manage.

A hole had opened in the middle of the floor in front of the statue of Proxis. As Scootaloo approached it, she noticed a set of steps leading down into a thick sea of darkness. She kicked a nearby pebble down into the tunnel and listened as the bouncing grew quieter and quieter until it had completely faded.

She gulped. She hated the dark; hated closed spaces just as much. For a second, she considered turning away, but then she remembered what she had come all this way for. Standing up straight, Scootaloo set a shaky hoof on the first step. She sighed and thought about a camping trip many moons before, thought about fears, thought about Rainbow Dash looking down at her, eyes alight in the moonbeams, comforting, beautiful. She drew a breath and placed a steady hoof on the next step, its din echoing like a battle cry.

* * *

><p>Blind. Scootaloo had never really given much thought as to what life as a sightless pony would be like, but she had always shivered at the idea. It just seemed bad, having such a normal, important thing just snuffed out. She knew she would never want to be one—can't fly very well if you can't see what you're about to slam into. As she cautiously descended the cracked, cold steps, a room of pitch blackness surrounding her, this belief—this fear—was only fueled more.<p>

The air smelled of dust, tasted like morning breath, and had such a heavy feel that she could have sworn the life was being squeezed out of her, drop by drop. All around her, their steps echoed. They charged, they beat, they rammed, they rattled her brain, and each one told her that she was not alone. Just how not alone was she? Could the beasts be lurking in the dark, fangs dripping, eyes glowing, minds hungry to finish the job? Yes, that could be the case. _That's exactly the case_!

A set of hoofsteps ceased as she came to a sudden halt. They were replaced by a loud sigh. If anypony could have seen her, they would have witnessed one of the most violent displays of head shaking Equestria had ever seen. She was tired of being scared. It was the same thing every time: she'd recite some mantra about being courageous—_don't run, the dark can't hurt me_—and then all of that got thrown out the window as soon as the lights went out. Facing fears was something that had been hammered into her mind since birth. Her mother had told her to be brave and strong, as had her father, as had Rainbow Dash, as had Princess Luna—a living, breathing _goddess_! Being brave should be as easy as counting to five. She didn't want to be chicken!

She didn't want to be there more.

_Can't be much farther, right_? she asked herself. Surprisingly, nothing responded. On one hoof, she was relieved that snarky voice had done the smart thing and stuffed a sock in it. On the other hoof, she still had no answer. She'd been going down the same staircase for what had to be five minutes. Did the book say anything about the stairs being this long? Come to think of it, what did it say was at the bottom? A... a door? Or was it just another hall? Maybe... it was the Phoenix Pool itself? _Why can't I remember_? Again, the voice held its tongue. The silence coursed through her veins, sending a chill down every nerve and artery. All at once she felt very, very alone.

Scootaloo was so entrenched in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the stone give way to dirt, and she nearly found herself, once again, with a mouthful of dirt and more bruises to her already wounded ego. She stumbled, stuck a hoof out, and thankfully found a wall to lean on.

A yelp sounded behind her, followed by a noise between a slide and a thump. The air was suddenly much mustier than it had been.

"Watch out for that last step," she called over her shoulder between panted breaths. "It's a doozy."

"Thanks for the heads-up," Apple Bloom's voice mumbled from somewhere in the dark.

Glancing around, Scootaloo saw nothing but more darkness. She slammed her hoof against the wall. Nothing was ever easy, was it? Couldn't something go her way just this once? Maybe a torch or two? She groaned. No, it would never be anything but hard.

Keeping her forehoof pressed against the wall, she began to creep forward. "Follow my voice," she said, hoping her friends would hear it. "And watch out for the wall on your right. Pretty solid. Running into it would be—" There was a resonating _thunk_ followed by a high-pitched squeak. "—painful."

The wall seemed to go on forever, and wherever it lead, the darkness was waiting for it. She wondered if she was walking in circles, or if she was even walking at all. How big could this place even be? Each step was a step farther away from hope. The wall felt like it was rubbing her hoof raw. And to make matters worse, it was freezing.

"Hey, Scoots?" Sweetie Belle asked, her voice ghostlike in the blackness.

"Yeah?"

"Is that light up ahead?"

She sighed. "Nah, Sweetie Belle, that's... that's..." She drifted off. Indeed, Sweetie Belle was right; a pale shimmer painted two walls—one directly in front of Scootaloo, and one off to its side. It was a strange sight. In the back of her head, Scootaloo had accepted that this would only lead to nowhere: no light, no hope, just a thick sea of shadows. Not that she was complaining. On the contrary, her grin was so wide that it reflected what little light there was like a lantern filled to the brim with oil.

Still, she couldn't show too much excitement. If she did, it would show her friends just how doubtful she had been. If there was one thing they didn't need to see right now—besides yet more endless darkness—it was a lack of confidence. After all, who'd follow a pony into hell if that pony wasn't willing to take the steps in the first place?

It was a welcome relief when her hoof ran out of wall and pressed against only open air. Her father had often told her that good things come in waves, and as Scootaloo looked off to where the wall used to be and was greeted by a room with lit torches and a large door in plain view, the saying rang more true than ever. Could this be the turn? How long would it last? Could the be the last good thing?

_No. Patience, Scootaloo. Take 'em as they come, one step at a time_.

Her hooves grew lighter and more confident with each step towards the room. The walk only felt like seconds, and she was surrounded by golden light before she could even gasp. The room wasn't large, but what it lacked in size it made up for in decor. Vases three times taller than her surrounded her, placed in between colossal marble pillars. The door seemed to stretch beyond the ceiling, and flanking its sides were two dragon-faced effigies, bright flames shooting from their mouths lighting the room. The door had no latch, and pushing against its monstrous form only lead to exhaustion.

_How do I get in_?

Scootaloo sighed what must have been her thousandth sigh of the day, and tossed her saddlebags onto the floor once more. She wondered why she even bothered tightening the straps anymore. _Daring Do and the Phoenix Pool_ still sat at the top of the pile, partially sticking out of the bag. She knocked it out of the bag and to the ground with a single flick of her hoof. Opening it to a page she had bookmarked with a twig, she began to scan the somewhat blurry words.

_Daring Do looked at the massive door, then to the walls around it. "Hmm..." She tapped a hoof under her chin. "This is definitely the griffons' work."_

"_What makes you say that?" Cay asked._

"_These markings," she said as she motioned to two small claw-like shapes painted onto the door in what looked like blood_.

Scootaloo looked up from the book and scanned the door. The flickering flames made it hard to focus, but her gaze caught a hint of red on the left side the door—right at her eye-level. She stood and walked over to it, leaning in until her nose touched its cold surface, and squinted. Sure enough, there were two blood-red markings. She didn't try to hide her smile as she headed back to the book.

"_So, it's made by the griffons. Big deal. What's that have to do with anything?" Pallah muttered._

"_It means we know how to get in." Daring's grin could light a room._

"_How?" Cay scooted in closer to the other two, though she made sure to keep a good distance from Pallah._

"_A talon. A single digit on it to be exact. See this hole?" She pointed at a small circular hole to the side with her wing. "A griffon sticks their talon in there, pokes a device with the sharp tip of their... what do they call those things? Fingers? Pokers? Eh, that doesn't matter. Anyway, they just poke it and that triggers the locking mechanism, and presto! Instant entrance!"_

Once again, Scootaloo looked up. This time her eyes met their goal almost immediately. The hole was barely wide enough for a quill, let alone a hoof. She groaned and shook her head. Two steps forward, a hundred steps back.

And then realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes lit up and her mind whirred. Daring didn't have a griffon in her party, so she had to get in there some other way. A stick or something like that. Hooves shaking, she looked back to the paragraph.

"_And just how are we gonna get in there?" Pallah asked flatly. "Not sure if you noticed, Darey, but we ain't exactly the claw-y bunch here."_

"_They're called talons, Pallah," Daring said with a smirk. "And don't worry your tiny brain. I just so happen to have a solution right here." She rummaged through her saddlebags and pulled out a one-hundred-percent genuine griffon talon._

"_How the hay'd you get that?" Pallah asked._

"_Archeology department at Pranceton is located right next door to the infirmary. So... I borrowed it." She laughed, ceasing when she noticed the shocked looks on her companions' faces. "What? I'll give it back!_"

Scootaloo lightly punched the book, her optimism draining with a single drawn out breath. She scanned the ground around her, and found the item she was half-heartedly looking for: a stick. Taking it in her mouth, she slowly moved over to the keyhole. She knew it wasn't going to work, but for some reason something inside her told her to give it a shot anyway. She sighed once more, closed her eyes, and inserted the twig. There was a click. She opened one eye, a sliver of hope sneaking into her brain. It was quickly washed away when her sights fell upon the snapped-off end of the twig sticking out of the hole like the nub of a severed limb.

"Well...crap," she muttered, reaching into her saddlebags and looking for something—anything—that would do. Unfortunately, she hadn't planned on keeping a journal or writing letters to herself or anything like that, so she lacked both quills and pencils. Grunting, she glanced over her shoulder. "Either of you got any, like, griffon claws or something like 'em?"

Blank stares were the only response she received.

She sighed. "Ya know, like a pencil or something."

"I have a few bobby pins," Sweetie Belle answered.

"Great! Can I borrow one?"

"Sure." Sweetie Belle reached into her bags and pulled out a jumbled mass of pins. Scootaloo couldn't help but smirk. _Taking one of Rarity's bags. Some days you really impress me, Sweetie._Scootaloo took one of the pins between her teeth and moved back to the door. She pushed and twisted and wriggled the tiny piece of metal with all her might, but the sweet sound of a clicking lock remained unheard, and the door stayed locked. Eventually, the pen was as twisted as a corkscrew, and Scootaloo found herself at square one once more.

"Anything else?" she asked again, not even bothering to turn around.

"No."

"Nope."

Scootaloo sighed. It looked like she'd have to do a bit of thinking. She sat back on her haunches and went through various possibilities, from cannonballs to dragon fire, battering rams to apples. None of them seemed right, though—it didn't take a genius to figure out that throwing apples at a thick stone door would only damage their food supplies.

Then her thoughts drifted to where she was—the memory of the glare of Proxis sending a shiver down her body—and the light bulb turned on. _Of course! _A smile slowly growing on her face, she marched past her friends and back down the hall.

The walk was a lot quicker the second time around. She was back in the temple, looking over the many statues, in the blink of an eye. Stone-carved griffon to stone-carved griffon, she looked them over like a general inspecting their troops. And like a general inspecting her troops, Scootaloo was only finding problems.

Each statue was as tall as three hers stacked atop one another—their beaks were as long as she was! Because of this, the claws were wide. Far too wide to fit in that tiny door-hole. Not to mention that they were made of _stone: _how the hay was she going to break stone?

Simple answer: she couldn't.

_No, _Scootaloo thought as she quickened her pace, _I can do this. I can do this. I can—WAHH!_Before she knew what was happening, her face had been introduced to the temple floor. Lifting her head and groaning, she turned to glare at her attacker. What she found though made the inferno in her eyes turn to a heavenly glow. The talon that had broken off the statue! She wouldn't even have to worry about breaking one off.

Scurrying to her hooves, Scootaloo practically flung herself at the fallen rock and began to lift—or at least, _attempt_ to lift. The talon felt like a giant block of lead. Sweat was pouring down her face in a matter of seconds, and her forelegs felt like they were about to be ripped from their sockets, but still she persisted. She had to. She had to get through that door, she had to reach the pool, she had to save Rainbow Dash. She _had _to.

"Scoots, what the hay are ya doin' ta that rock?" came Apple Bloom's voice from somewhere behind her. It sounded distant, muffled, foreign.

"What'cha think?"

"I'd rather not say... or think 'bout for that matter."

Scootaloo rolled her eyes and continued to pull on the talon. Any moment now. She could have sworn she felt it lift a couple of inches a few pulls ago. She was making progress. Soon it would be fine.

Suddenly, she felt a hoof on her shoulder. She turned and saw Sweetie Belle staring at her, eyes wide. They were filled with questions, concerns. Scootaloo looked down at her hooves, then back at Sweetie Belle, and then they finally settled on the talon. She couldn't even see it.

"It wouldn't fit anyway," Scootaloo mumbled. "It's over."

"What do you mean?" Sweetie Belle asked, tilting her head to the side.

Scootaloo bit her and looked up at Sweetie Belle. She could feel her eyes burning, could feel the tears streaming down her face and mixing with her sweat. "I failed her." Without another word, she walked out of the temple, shoulders slumped and her entire body—from her forelegs to her very soul—screaming in agony.

* * *

><p>The grass was green but out of focus. Behind her, the voices carried on, their words clear but falling on distraught ears.<p>

"You talk to her."

"Why me?"

"'Cause she actually likes ya."

"That's not true, Apple Bloom. She's just as much your friend as I am."

"Yeah... I sincerely doubt that. No offense, Sweetie."

"None taken. Still, one of us better go up there. I don't think she even knows where she is."

"I don't think she has for awhile."

"She's outside."

"I ain't blind, Sweetie Belle."

"I know, I'm just—"

"Worried. I know, I know. I'll go get 'er."

Scootaloo didn't hear the leaves crunching under heavy hoofsteps, nor did she notice when a shadow fell across her on. She barely even felt the hoof press against her chest and skull thump against hers. Her thoughts were a swirling mass; nothing was clear, but all of it was very loud. The voice had returned, its words indiscernible against the wall of wailing white noise, but she could tell from its tone that it was laughing: slow, raspy, mocking, hateful.

Another voice entered the fray. It was faint, but stern. The accent, unmistakable. "Scoots..." was all it said. And that was enough. She looked up, eyes locking with a yellow nose, then a set of narrowed eyes. The storm in her head ceased. All was silent, save for a gentle breeze.

"Hey," Scootaloo mumbled.

"What's wrong?"

Scootaloo backed away and shook her head. She looked at Apple Bloom, then the sky—when had it gotten so late? Her gaze lingered on the orange sliver of the sun that still hovered above the trees before moving back to the temple. It was engulfed in shadow. A wave of terror rushed over her. Then her sights fell upon Sweetie Belle. She stood atop the steps, wind tousling her mane, eyes shining with worry.

Numb. That was the only word Scootaloo could think of to describe herself at that moment. The storm in her head and heart had blown over, leaving only doubts and uneasiness in its wake. The voice remained, laughing like a jester, burrowing into her brain. She frowned. _What do you want from me_?

The laughter stopped. A single word permeated through her mind like a scream in the dark.

"_Failure._"

The storm came back; this time not as a whirlwind but boiling lava. She closed her eyes, spit on the ground, and marched back towards the temple. So, it thought she was a failure, huh? _We'll just see about that, friend_. No way she was going to give the voice the satisfaction.

There was no answer. Good. It had finally learned when to hold its tongue—had finally learned that it was wrong.

As she trudged up the steps, she locked eyes with Sweetie Belle and shot her a small smile. Sweetie leaned back, blinking rapidly, but a grin soon crossed her lips as well.

The moment was broken by Apple Bloom quite literally pushing herself between the two fillies. She looked at Sweetie Belle, then Scootaloo, and then Sweetie Belle again. There was a long pause before she nodded. Her gaze lingered on Scootaloo for far longer than she was comfortable with before veering off to the area around them. Scootaloo followed her gaze as it went from tree, to hill, to rock, and back again. Eventually she turned her attention back to the temple and sighed. "It's gettin' dark, and I don't see any real decent shelter 'round here. No caves or big trees or nothin'. Temple might do fine, but..." The words drifted off and she turned her sights on Scootaloo once more.

"Y—" The words got caught in Scootaloo's throat. She coughed before continuing. "Yeah, that'd probably be good. There's a hole in the roof, but..." She glanced at the sky. "Doesn't look like it's gonna rain anytime soon, and it's not that big a hole anyway." She gave a ghost of a smile. "Good idea, Apple Bloom." The words drifted between them, through them, iced their veins. In that moment, the world could have snapped under the weight of that simple phrase. Scootaloo swallowed hard, adam's apple burning. Apple Bloom simply stood still, as if she had been replaced by a bust bearing her likeness. It felt like an eternity had passed before Scootaloo cleared her throat once more. "So, yeah. This should be good."

Apple Bloom nodded ever so slightly, chin barely moving a millimeter. "Yeah..." she said, her words as icy as the air around them.

Without another word, Scootaloo moved around Apple Bloom and headed to the door. She stole a glance at Sweetie Belle, who bore a look of utter confusion. She could see the question hanging off her lips: 'What?' With a sigh, Scootaloo averted her gaze. To answer would be to go back there. Not even Celestia herself could make her go back there.

Upon entering the temple again, Scootaloo skidded to a halt. She looked from wall to wall, statue to statue. Something wasn't right; there was a feeling hanging in the air. She looked at the statue of Proxis, and she seemed to glare back—pupils slitted, brows furrowed, its beak seeming to curve into a slimy smile. Scootaloo shuddered, trying her best to force her eyes away, but for some reason her gaze remained glued to those dead, stone eyes. For the briefest of moments, she thought she heard deep, throaty laughter. She took a couple of steps to her right, putting a pillar between her and Proxis. Only then could she blink, only then could she breathe. Turning her back to the pillar, she lowered herself to the ground and leaned back, the cool rock soothing her aching head.

Soon Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle took a seat near Scootaloo, forming a very messy isosceles triangle. Apple Bloom looked at the statue looming over her head and made a noise halfway between a chuckle and an whimper. "Well," she muttered, "these things are gonna be at the front of my nightmares."

"Tell me about it," Sweetie Belle said with a shiver.

It was nearly completely dark; the breeze was picking up. Scootaloo could hear the creaking tree branches, carrying on through the room like ghostly chains. She wrapped her forlegs tight to her chest, lowered her chin until she could feel it rise and fall with her quivering sternum, and bit her lip. She'd heard about the infamous 'Northern nights' from her father—"Bottom of the ocean isn't that cold," he had said—but to actually witness one firsthoof was something else entirely. Each shaking breath sent forth long wispy trails, and she watched as her breaths floated off, rising up until they disappeared. Though her eyes remained on the ceiling, she could still hear the chattering of her friends' teeth. Eventually, she sighed and stood up, knees popping and a loud groan rising from her chest. Without a word—just a raised hoof to her shivering friends—she walked out of the temple.

The moon had risen and the stars dotted the sky, as if somebody had taken a pin and poked hundreds upon thousands of holes in the air. The wind was stronger out there—nippier too—but she barely felt it anymore. All around her, trees towered, their jagged limbs sticking out and silhouetted by the night. Each gust caused them to lean forward; they all seemed to aim directly at her. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Scootaloo could have sworn her heart stopped at that moment. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she continued to wander around on shaky legs, eyes locked on the ground, searching for firewood. Unfortunately for her, the area around the temple only seemed to hold twigs. Oh well, it would have to do; a fire was a fire, no matter how dim.

The walk back was equally slow, dread weighing down her legs. It was such a familiar feeling: in the woods in the middle of the night, surrounded by Celestia knows what. She couldn't help but feel as though she was being watched. Each step seemed to be followed by another softer one underneath, and there was always that one "tree" that _didn't_ bend in the breeze. Still, she kept her head and eyes dead-set in front of her, and that thing little more than an a shadow in the corner of her eye. It was there. She could feel it, hear it, smell it. Maybe if she didn't look, she'd be fine.

"_And if you don't, you're a coward,_" the voice in her head said, as venomous and smug as ever.

For once, she agreed. After all, it was probably just a rock, or a stump, or even her own imagination. What kind of pony was scared of an inanimate object—or worse yet, something that didn't even exist? Not her. Not Scootaloo, second-greatest pegasus pony Equestria had ever known. What would Rainbow Dash have said to her if she saw her trembling over nothing? Well, she'd probably whisper words of encouragement, but what would she _really_ think of her. That she was a coward? A laughingstock? Something she was ashamed to have ever being associated with? Scootaloo's eyes burned. She wiped them with her foreleg, keeping it pressed against her face. No. No, she wasn't a coward. And that thing was nothing—just her mind getting the best of her. She lowered her forelegs and looked off into the trees.

The beast stared back at her, red eyes glowing. Moonbeams reflected off its blood-stained claws and fangs. Even in the dark she could see that there was something hanging out of its mouth. Squinting, she was just barely able to tell it was part of a pony, probably a leg or chewed up wing. It seemed larger than ever now, halfway as tall as the trees that surrounded the temple. A low growl emitted from deep within its chest, and Scootaloo nearly fell to the ground as the earth shook.

But still Scootaloo held her grown. She stood tall and looked the monster dead in its ravenous eyes. "Well," she muttered. "What are you waiting for?"

It continued to stare, unmoving.

"What are you waiting for, huh? I'm standing right here. Do it."

If it heard her, it didn't express it.

All at once, Scootaloo exploded. "Come on! What are you waiting for! Finish the job!" She took one of the larger sticks from her saddlebags and threw it at the beast. Her aim was true, but the strike didn't even phase it. She roared. "Come on, you coward! Get over here and finish what you started, you fu—" She was cut off by something grabbing her and pulling her bag. Whirling around, she lifted her foreleg and nearly punched Apple Bloom square on the nose. Apple Bloom's eyes were wide, jaw hanging loosely. In an instant it transformed into a cold stare.

"What the hay are ya yellin' about?!"

Breathing heavily, Scootaloo looked back at the woods. The creature was gone—vanished without so much as a single step. "No," she replied. "Just thought I saw something. 'S nothing." She kicked at a twig laying on the ground, then bent down and took it in her mouth, tossing it in her bags. "Got some firewood."

Apple Bloom arched an eyebrow. Scootaloo let out a soft groan. That eyebrow meant one thing: Apple Bloom was about to unleash a lecture.

Instead Apple Bloom reared up on her hind legs, heavily setting her forelegs down on Scootaloo's shoulders. She pressed her nose against Scootaloo's; her breath smelled of old apples. Then, through gritted teeth, she spoke. "Seriously, Scoots, what in the hay is goin' on with ya? You're freakin—"

"There's nothing wrong with—"

"—me out. Is this about Rainbow Dash? 'Cause if it—"

"It has nothing to do with that—"

"—is, then you know you can talk to me about it—"

"I don't—"

"Celestia knows I understand where you're comin' fr—"

"No, you don't!" Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom away, nearly sending her toppling over onto her back. "At least you didn't kill somebody you cared about. I killed the only damn thing I had left!"

"Now, Scoots, don't talk like that. We didn't—"

"You know we did, Apple Bloom. We're the killers here, and you need to just face the facts. If we hadn't been so... so _stupid_, we wouldn't be here. Rainbow would be alive. Everything would be just fine. But, no, you just had to come up with one of your 'brilliant' ideas, didn't you?"

Apple Bloom glowered. "Don't you dare blame me for what happened to Rainbow!"

Scootaloo scoffed. "Why shouldn't I? You blame yourself enough as is!"

"Shut up!" Apple Bloom roared.

"What's the matter? Scared of the truth?"

"I ain't no dang murderer! She died. That sucks, but I ain't gonna have you goin' 'round sayin' that it's _my_ doing!"

Scootaloo grabbed one of Apple Bloom's forelegs. "Our hooves are covered in her blood, Apple Bloom! We unleashed it all. We may have not dealt the final blow, but let me tell you, we're just as guilty."

"It was an _accident_!"

"That could have been avoided if you hadn't come up with that stupid plan!"

"That was _your_ idea, not mine." Apple Bloom's face was as read as her mane.

"Maybe, but I wasn't actually gonna go through with it. I mean, 'Cutie Mark Crusaders Treasure Hunters?' Did you honestly think that would friggin work? I just threw it out there for giggles, and you decided that it was some sort of genius idea."

"I'm getting tired of you accusing me, Scoots. I ain't gonna have you try and guilt me into—"

"You haven't seen what I've seen!" Scootaloo shrieked.

"We both saw it, Scoots." Apple Bloom's voice was calm, too calm. "We saw it happen, every second. We both saw her lyin' there. The sound, the blood, the panic... These eyes—" She pointed at hers, then Scootaloo's, and then hers again. "—these eyes have seen the same thing. Seen enough. And they ain't gonna stop seein' if you don't get someone ta filter out the light."

Scootaloo sat back on her haunches and crossed her forelegs. "So you just want me to shut the blinds? Act like everything's fine?"

Apple Bloom made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a grunt. "No, 'cause I know it's not. Not for you. Not for me. But, danggit, Scoots, ya need to just chill out." She leaned forward and placed a hoof on Scootaloo's shoulder. "I know how bad this has to be for ya—if it tears me up inside as much as it has, I can't even imagine what you..." She looked off, eyes gleaming in the starlight, and sighed. "Doc says it's natural for us ta blame ourselves for what happens to those we love. 'If I'd only written that letter.' 'If only I'd walked in the door a second sooner instead of grabbin' the newspaper.' 'If only I didn't go to the scary castle in the middle of the Everfree Forest.' Everything's just one big theory. 'If only, if only.' But askin' questions and creatin' theories is only gonna open the cut. Sometimes ya need ta stop lookin' for ways ta fix things and just accept that they're broken. Then ya can come ta terms and move on."

Scootaloo sighed and shook her head. "I appreciate what you're doing, Apple Bloom, but... it isn't that easy. Can't just cry a few tears and get a few hugs and expect everything to get better overnight. Movin' on from a broken thing is kinda hard when that thing's jabbed itself into your heart."

"Never said it was easy," Apple Bloom said. "I was just saying that maybe you should talk about this rather than lettin' it build up in ya. I'm worried about ya, Scoots. Ya know that, right? I don't hate ya."

Scootaloo sniffed and blinked rapidly. "I don't hate you either. I'm just..." She sighed. "Just in a weird spot right now."

"We all are."

"Look, I can see what you're trying to do, Apple Bloom." Scootaloo rose to her hooves and walked over to a nearby stump. Once there, she gazed at the moon. For a split second, she thought she saw the shadow of a pony stretch across the surface. "You're thinking that if I talk this out, I'll stop all this and go back home. Won't work, I'm afraid. This... this is something I just feel like I _need_ to do."

"And why do ya feel like ya need ta do this?"

She sniffled. Her chest felt like a giant, empty hole. She wished there were clouds in the sky. At least then she could blame her damp cheeks on rain. "Because I need _something_." She wiped her face and turned to Apple Bloom. "Look, I'm cold and tired. Let's just go back inside and warm up, okay?" She tried her best to force a smile.

Apple Bloom nodded. "Sure thing. I could use some shuteye anyway."

"Sounds like a plan." Scootaloo's eyes lit up. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have any marshmallows, would you?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"Nothing. Just thought s'mores sounded good right about now."

Apple Bloom groaned. "Danggit, Scoots. Now ya got me wantin' s'mores."

Scootaloo laughed. Apple Bloom soon joined in. The laughter carried into the temple, where Sweetie Belle joined in after a few failed attempts at asking what all the yelling was about. Deep into the night they laughed—laughed over stories, laughed over stupid jokes, laughed over anything and everything. They didn't stop until their chests couldn't take anymore. By then their eyes had already closed, and the campfire had dimmed to embers.


End file.
